


The Green Lady's Dance

by ghostsandwhiskey



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon, Drama, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slavery, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2019-12-18 13:51:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 59,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18251144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostsandwhiskey/pseuds/ghostsandwhiskey
Summary: There are no Hylians in Hyrule. There hasn't been for many, many years. Which means, naturally, that people will pay good money to see one, just as they'll pay to see magicians, daredevils, and other oddities-- including the first male Gerudo born in a hundred years. An escape from the Gorman Brothers Troupe is the catalyst for the birth of a hero and the rise of a villain, but neither Link nor his only friend Ganondorf know what awaits them beyond their confined, limited world of performance.Normally updates between Sunday and Thursday, currently on irregular update schedule.





	1. Prologue

Link was not allowed outside at this hour, and he knew it. At the same time, he could hear the great clamour in the management caravan. Drunken roaring, cacophonous laughter that bordered on hysterical. They were busy. For now, at least. It was courage enough to take a step outside of his tent, pointed ears intent on his surroundings. It was the step that he knew would make or break his evening, but he couldn’t help himself. With a small quarter-loaf of fresh baked bread tucked beneath his tunic, he circled around the exterior of the campsite, keeping to the shadows.

A set of two cages sat idle at the edge of the camp, both spacious, and both housing an idle figure in their maws. One of the two was a tiger, reflective eyes tracing Link’s every move in spite of the darkness. The other was that of a man— a _Gerudo_ — who, judging by his tilted back head and soft breathing, had no suspicions of being paid a visit tonight. A flicker of desire crossed him then, and a lopsided smile stole onto his face. It would have been fun to approach from behind, to gently tap the Gerudo on the shoulder and observe a brief, innocent moment of confusion.

The risks, however, outweighed the potential amusement. If Ganon reacted in a way Link didn’t anticipate, his cover would be blown. So in Ganon’s full view, Link stepped up to the side of the cage and tapped the side of the wagon to stir him from his rest. In return he received an immediate response; gold eyes snapped open between furrowing brows.

“Link?” Ganon’s whisper was coarse, then morphed to a hiss. “What are you doing?”

Out came the bread from Link’s pocket, shoved between the bars with care. Ganon scooted forward, hesitant at first. When it finally sunk in, the gift he had been given, Ganon lashed out to take the bread in a broad palm and shoved the whole of it into his mouth at once. Link could almost feel the tension in Ganon’s muscles, the outlines of which were visible even from his crouched position beside the wagon. He snuck glances behind Ganon as he ate, keeping a particularly close eye on the candle-lit caravan across the field. A scrap of bread was no match for Ganon’s brutish jaws, however, and it was barely any time at all before Link felt Ganon’s breath against his face.

“Are you an idiot? Get back to bed before someone sees!” 

Link could only give a soft chortle in response. Between the bars a thin wrist reached for Ganon’s face, and he brushed away the crumbs that had nestled on Ganon’s lips in his haste to eat. The Gerudo was far less amused.

Ganon snapped at Link’s fingers with his teeth, before batting his hand out of the cage. “I’m serious. _Go. Now_. I won’t forgive you if you don’t.”

Forgiveness or not, Link was not deterred. He gave a smile, took a step back, and gave Ganon a muted wave of the hand before at last slinking back into the shadows. He could feel the eyes on his back as he left. And he could certainly hear Ganon licking his fingers to taste the ghosts of salt and butter.

_Enjoy it,_ Link said in hands behind his back. He did not check to see if Ganon had seen his silent reply, though. As he drew near his tent, the wagon door swung open and the muffled din of the caravan party unleashed itself upon the still fields. Eyes widened and heart shrunk in his ribcage. Arm-in-arm, a couple stepped out into the night. Laughing like drunks, stumbling with each step. Link knew that if they hadn’t been so preoccupied with each other, they would have seen him. They would have known, and it would have ended with tragedy.

The lady Farore smiled upon him tonight. He slipped through the canvas curtain and latched it shut. No further uproar came from the outside world. Her green luck guided him home. In the safety of his tent, the insatiable beating of his heart turned from dread to exhilaration. He slid into his cot, tucked himself beneath his blankets, and pressed the end against his mouth to stifle his sudden laughter.

Normally, he went to bed thinking of the morning to come. Tonight he drifted off to dreams of breaking bread beneath the sun with a Gerudo and a tiger in his company.


	2. Chapter 2

“You’re looking mighty cute today.” Miyu was uncomfortably close to Link’s ear when she was supposed to be combing back his ponytail. Lips no longer curled into a frown. Instead, his face remained level. Unblinking, his stare affixed to a mannequin by the wagon door.

In fact, he chose to straighten his posture some, and inched backward in his seat until his back sat rigid against the rest. This won an endeared laugh from Miyu, but at least he felt her lips pull away from his pointed ears. She settled once more into a methodic rhythm of brush-smooth-brush. “You could at least answer me, brat.” She laughed again.

Still, Miyu won no answer from Link. He was determined to get through this with nary a word at all, but she knew his game, and she played it better than he. Final adjustments made to his hair, she came around to Link’s front, offering him two different pairs of gaudy sequinned gloves. “Which?”

Between blue and green, the choice was obvious. He reached for the green in hopes of perhaps blending into the foliage, but they were snatched away long before his fingers came close. “What do we say, Link?” It took a great deal of self-restraint to keep his lips steady.

“Please.”

Miyu laughed again. She tossed the green gloves on his lap, and turned away. “You’re gonna wow the crowd tonight, sweetheart. Ever hear of Horon?”

He blinked. Head now followed along with her movements. His silence prompted her to turn around and give him a sharp upturn of her brow. Link shook his head.

“Of course not, you poor sweet thing.” Miyu grabbed a small scroll atop a crate of costumes. Giving him a light tap on the head with it, she unrolled it. A monotone map with several hasty notes written across the parchment in a language Link didn’t understand. “Tell me where Holodrum is, and I’ll give you a treat.”

He didn’t want to. But her gaze bored into him like an iron poking stick, and so he pointed to a random part of the map. Miyu’s laughter turned acrid.

“You poor, sweet, dumb little thing. Nice try, but no cigar.”

Good. He hated the smell of those things, anyway. Miyu rolled the parchment back up and tossed it to the side in favour of a makeup palette. Despite his best efforts, Link couldn’t conceal a grimace. The palette meant powder up his nose, in his mouth, and in his eyes. “Horon,” her words grew slower, and not only because her attention was on Link’s face, “Is the capital of Holodrum. Repeat that back to me, sweetheart.”

She lifted her makeup brush long enough for him to murmur it back. “These folk have never seen a Hylian before in their life. They’ll be wowed the second they see you— you won’t even have to breathe a word. Show ‘em those ears and they’ll be floored, I guarantee it.”

He couldn’t decide whether that was a good or bad thing. On one hand, less work. On the other, he could already foresee the ogling eyes and curious hands. Link exhaled through his nostrils. A beastly huff. Miyu laughed, and despite the fact her laughter was beginning to grate against his ribcage, better she laugh than the alternative.

“Anyway, you’re all set for the evening. Now we’ve just got to get the place set up to match. And— you didn’t sneeze once. I’m so proud of you, little chickadee.”

It wasn’t an intentional victory, but he could feel the powders tickling his nostrils now that she pointed it out. Link waited until she turned away to itch his nose. Then he stood, headed for the door. Miyu said it herself; there was work to be done.

“Ah, ah!” She tutted him and cut him off at the pass. Link took a step back, but her face was smooth and delighted as ever. “We can’t have you getting all grimy and scuffed up before the show. Not when we need you looking your very best.” To prove her point, she even reached up to adjust Link’s blouse collar. Her cold fingers brushed against his neck. He stiffened. “The brutes can handle it just fine on their own. Now… go stand over there and be a good boy while I grab my next victim.”

He was tempted to ask whether or not she was kidding. Regardless, it was safer to just do as told. Link meandered over to the gestured destination and watched her blow an exaggerated kiss before she slid out the caravan door. When would she be back? He imagined it wouldn’t be long. So he flew himself at the window to peer outside, and get his first good look at their stage for the evening.

It was a garden, that much he knew. Now that he had the chance to truly examine it, however, he could see it was far larger than he’d initially believed. Large, leafy trees with neatly trimmed branches flanked the cobblestone walkways. At the roots of the trees were a rainbow of flowers. An amalgam of colour, but all of them were the same uniform length. Some sort of light illuminated the base of the stems. From here, Link couldn’t tell what it was.

Another, more familiar sight caught his eye. A broad-shouldered figure passed close to the window with a support beam balanced on his shoulder. There were quite a few members of the Gorman Brothers Troupe who were capable of such a feat, but there was only one with rough skin as green as shadowed grass.

Link rapped a knuckle against the window. Ganon froze to glance over his shoulder, then spotted Link. His shoulders relaxed. Link smiled, a reserved gesture complimented by the tiny wave of his hand. Ganon smiled back, nodded, then looked away and resumed his walk.

His evening of rest was an unwanted gift, now. Link stepped back from the window, fulfilled with the sights. Muscles itched to be outside. The tight silk uniform and the sequinned gloves had other ideas.

Besides, right on cue, the door reopened. It wasn’t Miyu who came in first, but a petite young lady who was dwarfed in Miyu’s shadow. Her face was solemn. Link couldn’t blame her. It took hours to don her costume, and even longer to remove it at the end of the show. At least her frown would be soon hidden behind a large, heavy beak.

“Link, you know where the feathers are.” Miyu said, ushering the girl into a chair. “Be a dear and pull them out for me. Oh— and take your gloves off. We’re running behind schedule, and I need you to help me get these damn contacts in. Cecile always blinks too much.”

Miyu’s voice had gotten colder since she left. Cecile fidgeted with the wooden arm of her seat. Link didn’t hesitate to find the elusive box labelled _Rito._ Time was of the essence, and he could tell by the way she spoke.

 

* * *

 

The crowd was posh that evening. An hour in and he tired already of the formalities and the sickening politeness that was mandatory for each of his interactions. At least with the common folk, Link could get away with less conversation and shorter replies. Here he had to stare down each and every handsy noble with the most genuine smile he could muster. It was awful.

“Look,” said one, donned in fine suit, “The ears are real! Tug on them, they don’t come off!”

His acquaintance pinched the end of his ear, as requested. Link winced as she gave it a single, sharp pull. She wiped her hand off on her skirt, then hummed. “I don’t know. These sorts have access to all sorts of… _materials_. It could be some sort of glue.”

“But the earring, dear.” He pointed to his own bare ear. “My colleague studies Ancient Hylian. They always have the end of their left ear pierced. It’s a religious rite! How could these performers know something so nuanced?”

And yet they did. Link could remember the day they pierced that damn thing through his flesh. Now that it had finally healed, it actually looked convincing. That was a detail best kept to oneself, though.

“I suppose you’re right. But… do you… do you think this one knows magic?”

“I can, madame.” Link replied. 

She gawked, and whipped to face her partner. “Did you hear that? He _speaks_ so sophisticatedly!”

“And what is it you can do, my boy?” He paid her no mind, cupping his chin in sudden, intense concentration.

Link recited without batting an eye: “Hylians do not have innate magic, monsieur… contrary to belief. But there are ancient spells that can be learned. I know only one. Observe…”

He gave his arm a slight shake. From his sleeve a small tablet slid into his sequinned hand, and bringing a fist to his mouth to clear his throat, Link popped it onto his tongue. His two-man crowd watched with growing anticipation. Then, tilting his head upward, he blew a breath into the air.

With it, came an upward jet of flame from his jaws. Both the woman and man leapt back, the latter with a startled yell. Then a roar of laughter and applause. “Bravo!” The man exclaimed, coming forward to give him an awkward clap on the shoulder.

Link took a bow, beaming with delight. This was a humiliation he could never get used to.

“Quick, quick!” The woman said, “We need to find one of the Gormans! I want this one for the evening… Francesca must see this! Ruul, go, go! Go find one!”

The man— Ruul— snuck a hand around her waist and pulled her close. She tittered, and he gave her a tap on the end of her nose. “Calm down, dearest. I’ll make it happen, rest assured. He’s going nowhere, so let’s enjoy ourselves the rest of the show first.”

Already he was guiding her away, allowing Link a breath of respite. He tucked his hands behind his back and resumed his former position. A statue content with life, and content with his station. As he stood watch, he quickly felt a hand against his, pressing something into his palm before the figure drifted past him. Another tablet to sneak up his sleeve.

If the Goddess Farore had the kindness in her heart to grant him one more wish, he wished that Ruul would not be able to find any of the Gormans, and that Link would be able to return to his tent peacefully at the end of the evening.


	3. Chapter 3

Ruul had sniffed one out almost immediately. Link stood not in an outdoor garden, but now in the midst of a dining hall. It was larger than all the caravan wagons combined, with a table long enough to seat the entire troupe and then some. The troupe was not present, however, aside from Gordon and Cordin Gorman, and Miyu, who would not peacefully swallow the idea of being absent from a governor’s dinner. Yet she only ate three bites of her appetizer— Link was keeping count. He couldn’t help himself when his stomach rang hollow.

Instead she preoccupied herself with the governor and his wife, Ruul, and as he learned from eavesdropping, Inga. Miyu laughed at all of their jokes. Fake, superficial laughter, the very same that Link was used to. It was strange to see her using it on outsiders, and even stranger to see her keep an even face when Inga cut her off in several places.

“A real Hylian,” someone further down the table remarked in hushed awe. Link’s ear twitched, but he kept his gaze affixed to Miyu.

“A little underwhelming, if you ask me.”

“I don’t think so. Did you see him breathe fire earlier? I thought my heart was going to stop! You don’t see those sorts of things in Hyrule, let me tell you.”

“They don’t allow _anything_ halfway amusing there. I don’t know how you survived.”

“Well, you’re wrong there. They have… decent circus shows. Parades every so often… trite things like that. But _this_ is a show unlike no other. Where else do you see a real, in-the-flesh Rito, a Hylian, and swordeaters all in the same place at once?”

“Oh! Speaking of, did you see that _male Gerudo?_ ”

Link’s gaze strayed in their direction. Two women they were, completely engaged in their own conversation above the other loud conversations around them. He wondered if Ganondorf had gotten fed already. Maybe, just maybe, he could sneak some of this food out with him when they left…

“Yes! Now _that’s_ an interesting sight. Green skin! Who would have thought?”

“Repulsive, wasn’t it?” Despite the way the women shivered dramatically, they spoke with stars in their eyes. “I thought I was going to vomit when I first saw him and that Rito girl. Sickly skin and feathers growing from your face… I can’t even imagine!”

A pity, Link thought. Fully engaged with a talk that wasn’t even his, he didn’t notice Cordin sneak out of his seat to fling an arm around his shoulders. Link jumped, then braced himself to support the inebriated body leaning almost wholly against him. “Link, m’boy! This good man wh… wants to see you up close!”

He could tell Cordin was trying to lead him in the direction of his seat, but Link did the guiding all on his own. He glanced over the handful now staring at him, and determined that Cordin had been referring to Ruul. Not that it was hard to see, with Ruul gesturing fervently for Link to approach. Cordin slid back into his seat with ease, and like the magnificent duo they were, Gordon clapped him on the back and resumed conversation to draw attention away from the disgraceful display of excess.

There was liquor on Ruul’s breath too, unfortunately. Link wanted to recoil, but Ruul clapped his hands against Link’s biceps and gave him a small, forceless shake. “I’m afraid your good employer is mistaken, Lenk! I don’t want to see you up close, but… I have a daughter, you see, and she would be _over the moon_ to see a Hylian in the flesh! Come, come, no time to waste! Let’s go see her!”

Once more Link found himself an unwilling support for a man who struggled to get to his feet, but at least he could move without tripping over himself once he was up. Ruul looped his arm through Link’s and started off. A chair screeched behind them, and Inga called out. “Wait, Ruul! I want to see it too!”

Whether Miyu, Gordon and Cordin felt as though their conversations were more important, or simply were too tired to follow, Link didn’t care. The same familiar breath of relief left him when the dining room door closed in their wake as it did when he secured his tent and was left alone for the night.

“I wish we had a pictographer to capture Francesca’s face when we bring him in,” Inga whined to her husband. He waved her off.

“I know, my dearest, but we need to make the best of the situation. Just… take the clearest, most wonderful mental image that you can.”

It was not a satisfactory answer, but the spring in Inga’s step wasn’t dissuaded. Link had the daring to glance over his shoulder and check for himself. She smiled, and he faked his thousandth smile for the evening back.

“Here, here, wait outside.” Inga overtook them suddenly, and Ruul pulled Link to a halt. They were outside a set of double doors, nondescript as the other doors in their estate, but Inga took great care in knocking as gently as she could. A moan rasped from the other side. Link couldn’t tell what they were trying to say. Inga slipped inside.

Ruul shuffled closer and pressed his ear to the door. Emboldened, Link followed suit. Ruul made no comment. He heard Inga talking.

“Francesca, my little ray of sunshine! Your father and I arranged for a special visit tonight. Do you have any idea who it might be?”

The response was too quiet to make out. Inga continued.

“You’ll _never_ be able to guess. Here, here. I’ll help you sit up…” She added with a shout, “Ruul!”

That was his cue, made apparent by a tug on their looped arms. Ruul opened the door and walked him into a bedroom. Decorated to a degree which Link had never seen before. A plush blue carpet covered the lengths of the floor, surrounded by a paler blue wall. Painted clouds spotted the perimeter, occasionally covered up by wall hangings that ranged from mirrors, to artwork, to a portrait of a frail black-haired girl bearing slight resemblance to Ruul in the face.

Most importantly was the bed. A massive thing that swallowed the real girl whole, with a backrest of a dozen pillows. She was a small mound beneath the covers, head leaning against her mother’s breast. Inga held one of the girl’s hands in her own. Her wrists were the same width as Inga’s fingers.

“Look, Francesca,” Ruul announced, coming closer, “This boy, _Lenk_ , is a real Hylian. Pointed ears and all…!”

She squinted, and without further prompt, Ruul spun Link around to stand in front. Pushed until he stood right at the bedside, Link’s breath caught in his throat at the details of her face. Watery eyes that leaked without stop, lips that trembled with each and every wheeze she gave. If the portrait made her appear a youth, the reality had aged her eighty years. She didn’t notice his aghast expression, and mercifully, neither did her parents.

“Ears,” she murmured. Inga nodded with pride, sniffling back tears of her own. Whether they were tears of sadness or drunkenness, Link was again, unsure. He _was_ sure that he needed to move closer, and craned his head forward so that the girl’s fingers were close enough to touch his skin. Counting every second, he eagerly withdrew the second she lowered her hand.

“Yes, Francesca. They’re real… but you know what’s even more exciting?” Inga ran her fingers through the girl’s hair as she cooed. A pause for effect, and Inga beamed. “This one can use _magic._ ”

Francesca’s eyes grew wide. She shifted her head to get a better look at her mother’s face, to gauge her expression. And then she made a noise, a cross between wheeze and gasp. “I wanna see,” she croaked.

Ruul piped up at once. “Yes, yes! Anything for you. You heard the beautiful young lady, Lenk. Show her your spell—”

“ _Ruul!_ ” Inga barked.

“Francesca asked, and I intend on delivering, my dear—”

“Ruul, perhaps you and I should speak _outside_.” Inga blinked with visible strain, the hand stroking Francesca’s head frozen as she stared Ruul down. Link stepped back. Those eyes were not meant for him, and he had no intention of staying in her line of sight. Francesca frowned, and her leaky eyes seemed to ooze more.

“…then let’s go and _speak_ , my dear.”

Ruul’s hands came together, clasping tightly in front of his stomach. Link expressly did the opposite, tucking his hands behind his back and standing against the wall, looking as small as possible. Neither man nor wife paid him a second glance. Francesca was tucked in, and as soon as Inga’s hands left her, they snapped for Ruul’s wrist and dragged him out into the hall.

The curiosity was too much to bear. Despite being fully aware of the small round eyes watching him, Link inched closer to the door. He didn’t need to press his ear against it this time to hear the sharp hissing of an argument.

“Are you _mad?_ Having him _breathe fire_ in front of her?”

“Inga, did you see the look in her eyes? That would have made her day!”

“And what if something caught fire? The Hylian doesn’t know _water magic_ , Ruul! The smoke would be the death of her! Not to mention if her poor heart stopped working at the surprise of it all…”

Ruul’s voice dropped. Link barely caught his reply. “Her heart could stop working regardless. What’s the harm?”

“Don’t— Ruul, don’t. I don’t want to think about that now.”

“But we must think about it, my dear. We _must_.”

“…I won’t put her life at risk, Ruul. Even if it’s a slight risk. I won’t have it.”

“This is the sort of thing Francesca _dreams_ about, Inga. We won’t… have her for much longer. I want to see as many smiles as I can before then.”

Link glanced back at the girl in the blankets. She stared back. He couldn’t read her expression, and she wheezed back. It wasn’t a surprising revelation, that the girl was on her deathbed. Still, he wished he could go home. His eyelids sat heavy on his face and his stomach growled.

“What if… what if we buy the boy, Inga?”

Buy? The sequinned gloves crinkled beneath newly formed fists. What about Ganon? Link closed his eyes and willed himself to appear back in his tent, away from all this. Moving was a bad idea, but he paced closer to the door. Listening with commitment, now.

“Yes, that’s precisely what I was thinking, Inga. He could be with her ‘till the very end. It wouldn’t be any different than a personal entertainer, really.”

“Listen,” he continued, “I’ll go and talk with them. They’re still steamed, the two of them… they’ll be more reasonable like this, I’m sure. We’ll negotiate something… _somehow_. Money is no object for her.”

It didn’t matter what else they had to say. Link was already pacing away from the door mid-sentence. He bit down on his knuckle and gnawed at the glove. Would the Gormans be willing to part with him? Somehow, he couldn’t imagine it. He knew his lines, he knew his purpose, and most importantly, people lined up around the block to see if he was the real deal. But Ruul had said it himself. Money was no object, and if there was a language that made the Gormans sing, then rupees were it.

A fantasy struck him. He looked back at the door. There was a lock, and if he snapped it shut, he could try and climb out the window. He would grab Ganon, and the two of them would run, run as far as their legs would carry them. Without thinking any further, Link lunged for the door and turned the lock.

He could feel his heart in his ears. Link stepped back from the door, keeping his eye on it. The window was just a few feet behind him. By the time they realized what was happening, Link would have himself a head start. The Gormans were drunk, the man and wife were drunk, and their coordination wouldn’t be great.

It was time, he decided, when the doorknob rattled. Link’s bowels filled with ice.

“What on…” Inga trailed off and tried again. Her grip with more force, and her voice with better volume. “What—”

He unlocked the door and gently tugged it open as quickly as he had formulated his half-baked plan. “…it was caught on the carpet, madame.” Did his face betray the hammer of his heart in his chest? Inga looked him over and made a disgusted click of the tongue.

“Everything in this house is falling apart,” she murmured to herself, stepping past him.


	4. Chapter 4

Less than an hour later, Ruul returned, and with him came the vulturous Gorman Brothers. Gordon stood by his brother’s side, hunched over with his natural hump. Cordin fiddled with his moustache. Both of them had a glint in their eye that only Link could recognize. The dangerous sort of glint that made Link snap to tense attention at once.

“So this is Francesca,” Gordon said, but his eyes were glued elsewhere. They snapped toward the girl only when Gordon passed by Link entirely to stand at her beside with Inga. “You look lovely.” It was a formality as stale as the way Gordon took her trembling hand and gave it a kiss on the back.

“Isn’t she. Do we have a deal?” Ruul was clearly done beating around the bush. Gordon paid him no mind.

“You understand the value of a Hylian, don'tcha, good man?” Cordin chimed in.

“I think the offers I’ve made are more than fair compensation.”

“Are you sure? Keep in mind that this offer's a one-time deal. This Hylian has brought great joy across Labrynna fer many a year. The business in Holodrum is boomin'… and I know the crowds will only grow larger from here on out, Mr. Ruul.”

“Cordin, Cordin,” Gordon said. All heads turned in his direction. He lowered Francesca’s hand, gave it a pat, and turned on his heel. Hands hooked behind his back like gaping black wings. Head craned forward, he started towards his brother. “Look at this lovely little flower. She deserves all the happiness the Gorman Brothers could possibly have to give.”

Cordin gaped. Gordon looked to Ruul.

“We’re on a tour of Holodrum, as you may well know. However… if you wished to _rent_ our Hylian, we could always circle back to the skirts of Labrynna and pay those folks a second visit before making our return. Cordin— you remember the clamour for our kids in Symmetry City, don’t you? They’ll be right pleased to see us again so soon.”

The thought of being left behind made Link’s stomach clench. Cordin, now appeased by the point his brother was trying to make, pressed a finger to his front teeth as he mulled the technicalities over. “Yes,” he said, “Gordon's right. I see that now. It would take us… what, two weeks to Symmetry one way? Twenty gold rupees would compensate fer four weeks of losses, and then some…”

“Twenty gold it is,” Inga proclaimed before her husband could even open his mouth. Ruul’s eye twitched, but he nodded nonetheless.

Gordon clapped his hands together. Link flinched. “Excellent! I’m over the _moon_ we were able to come to a conclusion after all. And I’m even _more_ excited that your girl will have all her final wishes fulfilled.”

_Final_ was a poor choice of words. Ruul forced a smile, and tilted his head toward the door. “Perfect. Let’s finish this outside, shall we? Francesca needs her rest, you know… and Inga can escort the Hylian to his new quarters.”

Where the men took their time leaving the room, Link found himself ushered past them, pushed forward by two thick hands on his shoulders at first, then left to follow behind a newly quickened Inga.

 

* * *

 

Were the situation just a little different, he might have been able to enjoy himself. His bedchamber was a room comparable in size to Francesca’s, albeit without any of the unnecessary decor. The bed was about as big as his tent, which, quite frankly, would have been a delight if he weren’t so restless that he didn’t dare sit down. Link took to the windows instead, peeking through the drawn curtains at the sprawling courtyards below.

From there he overlooked the problem. Large canopy tents between the trees and the caravan wagons, silhouettes milling around to take down what was necessary while leaving the rest. He knew the plan, not from being told, but from dinner conversations. The troupe was to spend a day performing privately for Ruul’s estate, then a week for the general public in town. After that, Link could fill in the blanks for himself. They would be gone, back to Labrynna, and he would be alone. From there, his imagination spiralled further. The Gormans weren’t willing to part with him for good, but what of the others? What if, back in Symmetry City, they found a buyer for their ‘Rito’? Their _Gerudo?_

Link would never know where they had gone and— with a bit of an inhale, he realized that Ganon would not know a thing about Link’s own whereabouts. What would stop him from attempting to snap someone’s neck again? Performing his fool, rash tricks? He bit down on his knuckle, now free of that wretched glove, and snapped the curtains fully shut. 

A noise outside the door pulled him from his ruminations. Link could hear the heavy, uneven step of one of the Gormans. More distinctly, he could make out the bark of his voice in conversation with another.

This was a terrible, terrible idea, but it was the only one he had. Link opened the door and poked his head outside to the departing backsides of Cordin and someone he did not recognize. Of the two, this was ideal, right? Cordin had been hesitant on the deal.

Link called out. “Mr. Gorman?”

A pang of regret struck him square in the gut as Cordin came to a halt. Shifting on his heel, he turned just enough to probe Link with the corner of his eye. “Link, my boy.” He spoke softly. The sort of soft, restrained frustration that one would perform in front of pleasant company when their children misbehaved. “How’re you liking the… _arrangement_?”

“…can we speak?” Link willed himself mentally to stop talking, but more spilled out before he could stop it. “In private?”

An ugly brow rose to an arch. Cordin turned up his nose. With a sickeningly sweet smile, he glanced back to his company. “Go on without me. I’ll _catch up_.”

With a shrug, the stranger continued on as prompted. Cordin smiled after him. Almost as soon as they rounded the corner, though, Cordin’s expression contorted into the usual maze of bulging eyes, prominent wrinkles, and crooked lip. “What could you possibly want to talk about, Hylian? Tell me, ‘cause this had best be good.”

There was an entire hallway behind him to back up and put space between the two of them, yet Link stood a statue, rooted to the spot as Cordin sauntered closer. Up came a pair of fingers to play with his bush of a moustache.

“I want to come with you,” Link said, no louder than a murmur.

Cordin almost didn’t seem to understand the request. Then came a sneer; a thinly veiled rage. “Do you understand how much a gold rupee is worth? Go on. Take your best guess.”

“A lot.” He was certain of that much, at least.

“Hah! A lot is an understatement, Hylian. Now, I don’t know if the likes of you was following back there, but _you’re_ staying here in _exchange_ fer that ‘lot’ of rupees.”

“…I know.”

“Then I don’t see what the problem is.”

Link had two options. The first was to bow his head, thank Mr. Gorman for his time, and scurry back into the bedroom behind him. The second made his heart beat a little faster. Yet he chose before he could mull it over, caught in the midst of Cordin’s empty black stare.

“I don’t want to stay here. I want to come with—”

Cordin stepped against Link, their faces now uncomfortably close. Link leaned his head back. He dared make no other movement. Not when he could see the veins beginning to emerge beneath Cordin’s powdered, musky skin.

“I think someone’s forgettin’ his manners.” All pretence of formal speech faded in an instant, and Link’s hands trembled. “I don’t give half a shit what you want, Hylian. And lemme tell you, you’re _lucky_ that you’re under someone else’s roof right now. But unless you want a real problem to be thinking about, you best be making yourself scarce. Understood?”

Link nodded. Eyes flittered around Cordin’s face, waiting for sudden movement. When it came in a lurch forward, he held his breath. No strike came, however, and Cordin laughed, sharp and ugly. “Get outta here,” he ordered, and Link obeyed.

He fled into the bedroom once more. The window was his destination, and he didn’t stop to close the door behind him. This time he dared not even peek beyond the curtain. Link fiddled with the fabric, but made no movement until the sound of footsteps had faded entirely from the corridor.

Still, he could not slow his racing mind. He tried a book from a small shelf in the corner to occupy his thoughts, but the words were nonsense and there was naught a picture to be found for context. That idea was abandoned in favour of the window once more. It always came back to the window.

Link glanced down at his attire. The silk blouse chosen for his performance was tame enough, and he had been provided nightclothes by the estate— or at least a pair of breeches to replace his gaudy trunk hose. If he released his hair down to his shoulders and pinned back his ears, then he could pass as human. But what of Ganondorf? Pointed ears were nothing in comparison to a hulking frame of foreign skin.

It didn’t matter, he decided. Getting away would be enough for now. Camouflage was a problem for after the first hurdle. The more he considered it, the saner it felt. If the troupe was deconstructing the set tonight, Ganondorf would be roaming outside the cage for most of it. There would be no freeing him from behind those literal bars. It _had_ to be tonight.

Link paced a final lap around the room, then moved to close and lock the door. This time, there was no rattle on the handle to dissuade him from his panicked madness.


	5. Chapter 5

Bare feet probed the windowsill to ensure it would hold his weight. Peering over the edge, Link felt the wind in his hair. One complete story between him and the ground— it could have been worse, all things considered, but to jump straight down would be a risk. With each passing moment of hesitation Link felt his daring fade. Eyes searched for options. There was the straight drop, the quickest, but most dangerous. There were the trees that grew close to the estate, but they were pruned back from the windows. To jump for a branch would be another sort of risk in itself, but if he made it… there were plenty more footholds in a tree trunk than an unforgiving brick wall.

Now, or never. With that at the forefront of his mind, Link settled his aim on the closest branch. It was thin, yes, but he rathered that to the thicker branch that was even farther from where he now stood crouched on the windowsill. He prayed to Farore that the window below had curtains drawn, or was otherwise unoccupied. And he leapt.

Link gasped as fingers made contact with the bark. He clamoured in that split second to snap them shut around the width of the branch. Heart dropped into his toes, but he managed it, and dangled in the air like a dog held above water. Legs treaded nonexistent water, and eyes sought out another branch to catch them on.

As he searched, the branch snapped beneath his weight, and Link hit the ground with a winded yelp. His hip and rib absorbed the brunt of the impact, and beneath him those colorful flowers had been flattened entirely. Link writhed. Once the initial shock dissipated, he reached to feel at where it ached most, wincing at the touch. But he still managed to scamper to his feet and found it a dull sting in comparison to the rapid rise of panic.

In that instant, checking to see whether anyone had seen out the windows was the least important of his priorities. Sticking to the shadows to the best of his ability, Link waded through the flowers toward the distant sounds of whinnying horses and deconstruction work.

His muscles grew tense as the gap between him and the caravans grew smaller. Figures moved in the distance now. Illuminated by dying lanterns and moonlight, they danced in the same clockwork motions they knew off by heart now. Props and equipment were moved to storage, animals were rounded up, and the performers had no doubt already stripped out of their costumes. A well oiled machine, and here Link was to grind those gears to a halt for the first time in years.

Behind a tree, he waited. Blue eyes peeked now and again at those who passed by. He needed a fleeting glance and no more; none of them had the Ganondorf’s bulk. He wondered if perhaps Ganon had already been stowed away for the evening, but that fear passed from under him as smoothly as the flowers blew in the breeze. They needed his strength. They feared it, but they needed it.

Link saw him not a minute later. Golden eyes glared at a nothingness ahead, both hands occupied with large buckets of water. Ganon’s stride was heavy, bordering on a stomp. Link whistled, louder than intended. While Ganon rolled to a halt, Link froze. With his fingers still in his mouth they made eye contact, and it took Ganon’s sharp hiss to bring him back to his senses.

“ _What—are—you—doing_?”

As always, Link had no answer. Not in words, anyway. He darted forward, grabbed Ganon’s scarred wrist, and tugged him behind the nearest tree. Tugged was not actually the right word. Link knew fully well that Ganon was a tree in his own right, and where he planted his roots, it was not within Link’s capabilities to move him. Ganon stared, appalled.

“Leaving,” he murmured.

“ _What_?”

Ganon’s wrist still in hand, Link began to march away from the caravans without a further word. He expected to be jerked to a stop, for Ganon to question something, _resist_ in a way, but Ganon tromped through the flowerbeds in silent obedience. At least until they reached the next tree. He spoke up, but continued walking. “Do you have a plan? _”_

Link shook his head. Ganon snorted.

“Absolute fool. I should expect nothing less.”

The nerves coaxed out a shaky laugh. Link glanced backwards. A lopsided, toothy smile greeted him. They were doing it, he realized. They were leaving. Away from the cages. Away from the burns and the bruises. Away from the Gormans, from their assistants, from _Miyu_ …

Who, when Link glanced back ahead, emerged from a side door of the estate arm-in-arm with Gordon. Whatever she had been saying fell short on her tongue. “Where do you think _you’re_ going?” She demanded, authoritarian tone stopping Link dead in his tracks.

Suddenly, Ganon’s wrist jerked away from his grasp. Before Link could react, broad arms wrapped around his waist. Ganon threw him over his shoulder, and the world became a jostled chaos as the Gerudo broke into a sprint.

“They’re making a run for it!” Gordon dashed away, but away from the two of them, toward the caravan. Miyu flung herself back into the governor’s house. Link clawed at Ganon’s shoulder, half in an attempt to get a grip and half to steady himself enough to see what was happening behind them more clearly.

He didn’t realize he ought to have been more concerned with what laid ahead until Ganon shouted, “Sorry if this hurts!”

That was the sole warning Link got before Ganon plowed into the wrought iron gates of the courtyard. Knocked straight from the hinges, it fell to the ground with a thunderous clatter. If there were still people unaware of their escape, then that would be more than sufficient to alert the rest. Despite Ganon’s warning, it was he and not Link who stumbled a few steps after and let out a clenched-tooth hiss.

A horse nickered back in the courtyard, too loud of a sound for it to be a bored vocalization. Link clapped on Ganon’s shoulder in warning. He received a grunt in return, and they spilled out onto the paved road at the end of the spiralling path to the estate.

“Wish you’d given me a warning beforehand, Link!” Ganon said. He laughed, loud and bold, and Link wondered if this was all a dream for the briefest of moments. A laugh? Now, of all times? There was a giddiness in Ganon’s every breath— one Link had never heard before. The corners of his lips started to rise in a matching smile. Seeing a horse barrel through the busted iron gates killed it immediately. He clapped on Ganon’s shoulder furiously, lost for all other words.

“I know!” Ganon replied, “Hold on!”

Link pried his gaze away from the horse long enough to crane his neck and glance in the other direction. They were headed straight into the thick of Horon, sparse houses growing in thicker clusters already by the time Gordon was at the end of the dirt estate lane. In fact, there were a few people still milling around at this hour, though many had paused to try and mentally grasp the sight of a Gerudo and Hylian charging straight past them.

“Stop ‘em!” Gordon shrieked. He was gaining on them readily, and the bystanders deterred him none. They leapt out of the way, a few uttering startled cries when they saw the bow clenched in his white knuckled hands. Eyes widened. Link ducked his head just as the first arrow whizzed past them, the whistle of the wooden shaft also alerting Ganon to the rising threat. He dove to the right down a smaller, mostly desolate street.

Moving targets fast approaching their demise. That was the sort of feeling that struck Link in that moment, made all the more clear with Gordon’s enraged yell. Nothing stood between them and the kiss of a sharp arrow point aside from the luck of the draw. Was there truly nothing he could do from his position? Another arrow tore past them. He had to try _something_.

A passerby held in her hands a packed basket. Link’s plan came to him instantaneously. In a precarious move he knew Ganon’s raw strength could handle, Link twisted himself to one side, a hand gripping Ganon’s shoulder with all his strength. He half-lunged, fingers meeting woven wicker, and tore it from her grip. Her gasp was a painful jolt, but it was nothing compared to an arrow. His voiceless apology was insufficient. Still, it would have to do for now.

He dumped the basket over to spill it of its contents, settled himself better on Ganon’s back, and held it up, a makeshift shield. “Quit squirming, idiot!” The Gerudo yelled. Grip grew tighter around his waist, a snake aiming to constrict to protect rather than feed.

Gordon notched another arrow, pulled back, and let it loose. Link raised the basket to his face just in time to feel the impact of steel cutting through the weave, a sharp jolt that almost made him drop the basket entirely. The horse was nearly upon them. Each shot counted for more, and together, they made for one broad target. Ganon turned again into a cobblestone plaza, a fountain planted in the middle of the spherical terrace.

Another arrow came their way and this time, it was not from Gordon’s bow. To one side two other riders blitzed toward the fountain. One of the troupe guards led at the front, Cordin at the back with his mottled grey steed. Ganon wove around the fountain edge, slammed into a hapless painter whose canvas plunged into the water along with him, then again into a lady who had already been skittering out of the line of fire.

Two sharp turns in quick succession won them a bit of space, but the strained, hot breath of the horses was almost close enough to burn Link’s skin. That, and the thunder of hooves against the cobblestone swallowed him whole. They fled down a narrower alley now. At the entrance between buildings, Link saw the horses draw to a halt, but they were not deterred entirely. Gordon filed in first, his brother behind him. Link could feel it. They would gain on them here— there was no where else to turn.

And when Ganon slowed to sidestep around a boulder, Link wanted to scream. The horses were coming, another arrow too— the basket would not hold forever. He lowered the basket to cover Ganon’s back, where he assumed the shot to fall. It fell even shorter, however, landing with a sad clink atop the large rock before clattering uselessly to the side.

It was the sort of thing one couldn’t look away from. That was the only reason why Link had his eyes open to see the boulder stir, and watched it in terrified awe as it slowly unfurled into a wall to block the Gormans’ path. A miracle. It was a miracle from the Goddess Farore herself! A violent neigh echoed down the alley, and the roar of hooves went quiet.

“Move! _Move,_ you dull-witted _blockhead_! _”_

“Are you _deaf?!_ He told you to move, so don’t just stand there, _dope!_ ”

He realized then what they were speaking to. The last time Link had seen one of them— the rock people, the _Goron_ — had been many, many years ago. Even then, they were pebbles in comparison to the impenetrable shield that even turned its head to blink sleepily at them before Ganon disappeared out of their sight and flew out the town gates.

They slipped into the leafy embrace of the surrounding trees, and Horon vanished, already a distant ghost in Link’s memory. A spectre that was no longer visible, but would not stop haunting them that easily.

 

* * *

 

Link’s feet readily welcomed the grass after dangling freely in the air for so long. Ganon panted. Hungry breaths that, while exasperated, accompanied a wild-eyed grin. Oversized trousers had fallen to one side of his hips. He tugged them up properly, fell back against a tree trunk, and cackled. Link eyed their surroundings. Wondering when the horses and inevitable reinforcements would arrive. How long did they have? A clock loomed above him like a long-drawn shadow. When Ganon looked over at him, his first handsigns came frantic.

_Are we safe?_

“I can’t… hear them anymore. Can… you?”

_No, but they’ll come for us, they always do!_

Ganon licked his lips, and Link felt his desperate thirst through the gesture. A green hand ran through what remained of his vibrant red hair since his last trimming, and he approached to clap the other on Link’s shoulder. “Let’s keep going if you’re that worried. I say… _good luck_ to them trying to figure out which direction we went in.”

Link admired that air of confidence. Where Ganon stood tall and beamed bright, Link remained shrunken in on himself, one hand clutching the opposite arm for support. He dug his toes into the dirt, which felt fresh and new. The wind was cold but crisp, and he could hear with acute awareness every sound of the wilderness around them. Cicada chirps from afar, the rustle of trees above. Yet the sound of the horse hooves would not leave him in peace. He stared up at Ganon, eyes blank and uncomprehending.

“Come on,” Ganon replied, and though Link expected it this time, he still let out a shivering breath when Ganon scooped him up as a groom would carry his bride. His chest heaved with uncaught breath, but he offered no complaint as Link leaned into him and trembled.

Over and over again, he pondered the possibility of returning to beg for their mercy before they caught up. If Ganon had left him to walk on his own, Link couldn’t tell whether he would have frozen entirely, or whether he would have run back in the opposite direction.

But now there was no turning back. They were two men with naught but the clothes on their backs. They were _free_ men, but that realization would not sink in for a long, long time.


	6. Chapter 6

The sun had wholly risen and long since assumed its post in the sky by the time Ganon and Link chose to stop again. It was the alluring glow of a stream that caught them. Shallow enough that it reached only their ankles, but more than sufficient to quench their parched throats. Link combed back his hair with his fingers as he stood in the middle of the brook, hand settling above his eyes to shield them from the afternoon light. His feet were numb from the water’s biting chill, but he stood idle until he could bear it no more.

He started towards Ganon, who laid in the grass with arms braced behind his head for support. His eyes were shut, mouth hung open in a tell-tale sign of listless sleep. Link’s own eyelids fought furiously for the luxury of rest too, but his mind refused it as though sleep were a life-threatening toxin. When he sunk into the grass, caught been the cold of the dirt and the warmth of the sun, his body gained a sudden weight that pinned him in place. He hadn’t realized how much effort it took to stand.

His thirst was no longer an issue, but there remained a hollow ache in his gut. A sort of faintheadedness that intensified when he thought back to his last meal: a plate of bread and soup before he had even gotten dressed for the performance. How many hours had it been since then? Link didn’t want to think about it. Yet his mind raced, fluttering from one scene to the next. Bread, dinner, sick girl, horse, rock, repeat.

It was a montage that seemed never-ending. Eventually, however, the sheer exhaustion in his bones won out over everything else. Link drifted into a shallow sleep, hidden behind the impenetrable wall of Ganon’s body.

 

* * *

 

Eyelids fluttered open, and perversely woke to the gentle glow of a crescent moon. The sweet beckon of sleep was hard to resist despite the reeling of his thoughts earlier. What kept him awake was the absence of green skin beside him. Link sat up, supported by his elbow at first, then his palms. He found Ganon at once. It was not difficult to spot the large frame knelt by the side of the stream. The Gerudo was alternatively combing out his hair and dipping it into the water before shaking it out with his hands.

A wash, Link decided, was a welcome treat. With a grunt he stumbled to his feet. Ganon lifted his head fully and shot a glance in Link’s direction. “Pleasant dreams?” He asked, a bite of sarcasm to his tone. In Link’s haze, the question did not fully register.

_Where are we going from here?_

“Away,” Ganon replied. Link sat by his side to stare into the reflection of the water. The wash felt like too much effort now. He frowned.

_How long have you been awake?_

“Does it matter?”

No, Link decided with the shake of his head. Ganon gave him a once-over, then reached to cup the back of Link’s head and pull his face toward the water. The gesture was sudden and somewhat rough, but Link allowed it after an initial second of resistance. Cool water splashed onto his scalp and snaked down the back of his grass-stained shirt.

So similar to the cold water they washed in before the shows, and yet so different at the same time. Link closed his eyes. Ears twitched, taking in the sound of rushing water, the splatter of stray drops back into the stream with every handful poured over his head.

When he rose, he ran his fingers through wet, blond locks, and Ganon stood. Link followed without any true thought to where they were going— his attention was wholly preoccupied with detangling the budding snaggles near his tips.

“I want to reach the top of those mountains,” Ganon said at last. The fog in Link’s skull lifted ever so slightly alongside his chin. A jagged mountain range stood tall in the growing distance. Even from the roads to Horon it stood a prominent fixture in the landscape, but it had not caught Link’s eye until now. 

_Why_?

Ganon’s gaze was firmly fixed ahead of him, but he answered nonetheless. “I’ve never been. Neither have you.”

The mountain heights, as Link thought more about it, _were_ an enticing prospect. The sky would be so close they could reach out and take it in their hands. More importantly, the Gorman Brothers would never look for them there. They travelled the road well-beaten and went where the people congregated. As far as he knew, no one lived up in those rocky, skyward fangs. Even from a distance it emanated a sort of unfriendliness. The grey landscape was desolate compared to the lush greens of the grasslands and forests, and the trees only became sparser as they approached the foot of the giant.

Another issue weighed on Link’s mind, far closer than the stretch of rock that would be out of reach for a while yet. _I’m hungry,_ he signed, frown deepening.

“We’ll find something. Eventually.”

They continued on in silence. Link with no better solution to the problem of his grumbling stomach, Ganon apparently ignorant of his raw, bleeding feet.

 

* * *

 

River water and foraged berries made for a difficult journey up the rocky inclines. What they did manage to find and eat were small portions at best, and these were the sorts of paths that knocked the breath out of the average traveller. Meaning that Link stopped often while Ganon continued forward, slow but steady. Three times now Ganon had offered to carry him, and three times his offer had been declined.

Ganon was the one who had gotten them away in the first place. Link refused to put further burden on him. Steadying himself to the best of his ability, he resumed the upward trek. The cicadas favoured the safe refuge of the forests, and so the sole ambience was that of the whistling gales seeking a way through the rock walls to no avail. Feet clapped uncomfortably against the dirt, stirring wayward clumps of gravel. Other than that, the land was silent, until it wasn’t.

It started a distant rumble. Link drew to a halt first, and Ganon, who was several paces ahead, pressed onward until he realized his partner had fallen behind. “You need another break already?”

_Do you hear that?_ Fingers were stiff from cold, each sign a little more difficult than the last. Ganon squinted, sighed, and rescinded his steps.

“I didn’t make that out. What?”

_Do you hear that?_ By then the rumble had grown from what sounded vaguely like distant thunderstorm to something louder. A continual, dull crash from further up the mountain. Ganon watched Link’s fingers, then glanced in that same direction. Scarlet brows knit together, and Link inched closer. As though a flash fire had lit under him, Ganon gripped Link’s arm and tugged him off the trail toward a threadbare bush in the shadows. Ganon hid behind it as though the leafless cluster was able to aid them at all in the endeavour, but Link copied the motion without question.

It was a crash Link had never heard before. A clatter that made him want to cover his ears, painfully sensitive to it all. It drew closer, and then it was upon them. Two boulders tore down the trail in a way that didn’t quite make sense to the Hylian. They had the air of moving on their own, propelled by invisible hands. Eyes watched, large and uncomprehending. Even more so when the boulders came to an abrupt halt. Then, like the last piece of a puzzle sliding into place, he understood.

The boulders unfurled into the same type of wall that had spared them the Gorman Brothers’ wrath in the first place. With wide, bulbous faces, they scanned the area. One, marked with what looked to be white chalk across their chest, turned to the other. “They should have been around here, right, brother?”

“I thought so, brother. They have short little legs… unless they grew longer while we were coming down?”

“I don’t think they can do that, brother.”

“Where else can they go, brother? I don’t get it…”

Two vastly different emotions tugged on Link. These Goron were clearly on the search for someone, which sat about as well in his stomach as a mouthful of mud. What if they were working with the Gorman Brothers? Would these Goron drag them back to the troupe if they were discovered? On the other hand, the Goron had been responsible for aiding them in their escape. They rarely frequented anywhere close to where the troupe performed, and aside from their girth, they possessed no visible weaponry.

And their eyes. They didn’t shine with a sharp, sly greed like the Gorman Brothers. Maybe that was the deciding factor. Either way, Link stood, rustling the branches before Ganon had a chance to drag him back down. The Gorons turned their bodies in slow, shuffling steps. Ganon hissed. A feral word of warning. Neither of the Gorons noticed. They stared, and they blinked.

Once, twice, then the one with the white markings stepped closer. “Oh! There you are! You two are from the big human village of Horon, yes?”

Link reached up to brush his hand against the side of his head, tucking the rest of his ear behind a semi-frozen curtain of wet hair. Ganon’s stare was that of molten gold. “…yes,” Link said, a half-gasp that he immediately regretted.

The Goron with the markings clapped his hands, stone clinking against stone. His face lit up. “That is wonderful news!” To his partner, he added, “Did you hear that, brother? They’re the ones!”

“What ones?” Link forced the words out. Maybe it would give them a head start if they needed to run. Not that it would do them much good with the sheer speed of those rolling rocks. His gut clenched, doubting the instinct that had made him reveal himself.

“Did big brother Oki not tell you?”

That was a new name. One of a dozen knots came loose in his stomach. Link shook his head, and the marked Goron scratched at the side of his head. Confused look broke with a suddenness that caught Link off guard, replaced instead with a bright, beaming smile. “Oh well! If you are on your way up the mountain, we will show you the fastest trails. Our big brother chieftains are very happy that you came.”

Link exchanged a glance with Ganon. His pointed glare faded, and with hesitance, he rose to his feet and started towards them. At once, Link’s shoulders relaxed. If Ganon trusted them, then that was enough for him to fully let his worries loose.

“Why does your chieftain wish to see us?” Ganon asked, cutting ahead of the two miniature mountains in long, renewed stride.

“Uhh…” The unmarked Goron spoke this time. “That’s better left for our big brothers to explain, right, brother?” 

To which the marked Goron nodded, and added: “Yeah, the chieftains told us to leave all the talking to them. What was the word they used… oh! ‘Negotiating’.” Ganon led the pack, but Link lagged some to stand closer to the Gorons. If the troupe were to find them now, then the wall would once again protect him. They were large, intimidating, and required Link to crane his head to look them in the eye as they spoke, but they were also protection.

“Are you alright, humans?” The unmarked Goron said with concern. He had been watching Link with a budding frown. “You don’t look happy, either of you… you’re on Goron land, little brothers. And you’re big brother’s guests! If you need something, then we will provide it!”

Those were foreign terms. Ganon stopped and glanced over his shoulder to watch as Link tried to take it in. Little brothers, guests, _humans_ … were the Gorons talking about Ganon and him? It almost felt like a game. A sort of trick where a mouse trap would slam down on his fingers if he tried to reach for the carrot.

His voice was smaller than usual, and he knew it. “We’re hungry… tired.” Cold, lost, afraid.

“…do we have human food up the mountain, brother?” The unmarked Goron put a broad hand over his own mouth in what Link could only describe as horror. He took a small step back, even if the two Gorons were now engaged with only each other.

“That is a good question, brother. But big brother chieftains would not overlook that if they knew human guests were on their way, right?” Without waiting for the unmarked Goron’s response, the marked one nodded, reaffirmed by his own statement. “Yes! Once we get up the mountain, you will have a feast! We will take good care of you, little brothers.”

“Hmph.” Ganon crossed his arms over his chest. “And what is it we can _actually_ call you two?”

“We haven’t introduced ourselves, brother!” The unmarked Goron looked aghast once more. “Please don’t tell the chieftains… they will not be happy if they know we waited this long! I am Wara, and this is—”

“Rorogoro!” The marked Goron interrupted, beating his chest with pride. Link couldn’t help but smile behind a rising hand meant to hide it. Ganon caught the upturn of Link’s lips, and his own solemn expression changed none, but he did suddenly gesture to Link in introduction.

“Link, Ganondorf.” His gesture turned inward, and they resumed the hike.

Nothing physical had changed, but somehow, the ascent was beginning to feel a little easier. Even as the dirt slopes graduated into pure rock, the foliage left almost entirely behind.


	7. Chapter 7

The mountains had eyes, in more ways than one. The higher they climbed, the more Link saw tunnel entries that stared down at them. Black voids that seemed to lead nowhere, until they passed one at close proximity. Light glowed at the back of the tunnel throat, but he still hoped they weren’t intending on entering these miniature abysses. That, and they had quite literal eyes— more and more rocks proving to be more than what they initially seemed. Some of the Gorons stood unfurled, but others sat in almost near-camouflage against the rock face. The only reason Link had yet to touch one on accident was because of the cheerful way their guides would greet each one.

When it occurred to him that they were gathering an entourage, Link hurried ahead to fall in step with Ganon. _Why do they care so much about us?_ He asked, keeping his hand motions subtle.

“I don’t know,” Ganon replied, his whisper low and gruff. “Either way, I won’t let them separate us.”

“Little brothers!” Rorogoro— the name made Link want to giggle every time he thought about it— called from behind. Both he and Ganon turned. The small flock of Gorons that had chosen to waddle along behind them had stopped at one of the tunnel entries. Rorogoro gestured with a wide, sweeping motion for them to follow. “This is as high as we go. Now we go inside!”

It was an uncomfortable inevitability, Link supposed. He tried not to drag his heels as their ascent turned to a slight descent into a twisting, cavernous corridor. Every so often they passed a mounted torch that offered a soothing blaze, until they grew more and more frequent. Not a single one sat idle and extinguished, which stood out as a small curiosity. Did they have specific people to ensure these passages were lit at all times?

Their impromptu tour had not yet used all the tricks up its sleeve. Passages widened. First large enough that three or four Gorons could walk side by side with ease, then enough to require crude stone support pillars to keep the ceiling suspended. Before he knew it, the hallway had become a plaza, the chatter of idle Goron abuzz in the air.

A plaza, and also a hub. Like an ant hill, Link could see a dozen subpassages leading off in every direction. Some were covered with pelt curtains, others left bare. And like a communal canvas, the walls played host to a spectrum of colour. A collaboration, judging by the wildly varying styles. One drawing pictured a bust of a harsh-featured Goron in simple shade, juxtaposed against a stick figure waving to the sun.

Not to mention the intricate web of hanging lights that swayed far above their heads. His jaw hung open, a fact he didn’t even realize until Ganon pointed it out.

At the end of the plaza was an outstandingly wide entryway, covered by animal pelt like many of its peers. This makeshift doorway, however, was made of a variety of pelts sewn together to make a single piece of sufficient size. It was there that Rorogoro stopped them from proceeding further. “It is customary to wait for the chieftains to let you in, little brothers. They are very busy, and do not like to be interrupted! Here… I will call for them, and let them know you have successfully made the journey!”

Rorogoro raised a palm to clap against the wall, but he didn’t get the chance. A deep voice boomed behind them: “Cease. I am right here.”

This Goron was a specimen unlike the others. Stone arms gave the illusion of intense muscle, deep and well defined. Where Rorogoro and Wara had small wisps of hair atop their heads, this one had a sweeping mane and a shorter, well kept beard. It was a cascade of snow that trailed from all angles of his face. Around his neck he wore necklace upon necklace, each laced with pronounced, polished jewels. A string of shining fire next to an intense gold that reminded him of Ganon’s eyes. This Goron wore markings of his own, but writ in bold black to contrast against Rorogoro’s faded white. The designs covered near every inch of his arms, folded across the width of his chest.

“These are the two Oki summoned?” He asked. Link could feel the Goron’s gaze rake across his face, heated like the interior of their mountainside den. Rorogoro nodded and pounded a fist against his chest in affirmation. The Goron— _chieftain_ , Link assumed, did not appear terribly impressed. “Very well,” he added. “Come inside. My brothers… you have done well. Darunia and I will handle matters from here.”

The chieftain brushed aside the pelt curtain, but held it open for until Link and Ganon slipped beneath it. The heat of the room felt like a slap to the face. Almost uncomfortable compared to the pleasant hearth-side warmth of the tunnels. Ganon settled a hand on Link’s shoulder. There it remained as they entered into the chamber proper.

The walls were not decorated with paints on this side of the curtain. Rather they were engraved with patterns and a jagged dialect Link knew nothing of. On the ceiling, dragon heads emerged from the rock and stared down at them with open jaws. Then the source of the overwhelming heat was made clear. In the centre of the circular room was a depression in the floor, where a great burning fire raged within the constraints of its pit. The smoke drifted upward and into a crude vent above.

A Goron sat on the other side of the flame. Unlike his peers, his legs were folded beneath him in a near-meditative manner. His face did not imply the same sort of meditation in the slightest. Where the jewelry-clad Goron had a mane, Darunia had a length of beard braided in three parts beneath his chin. His body was bare, save for a single crude tattoo on the bicep of his arm that appeared to Link as a sort of rough pawprint.

“Darunia,” the Goron behind them boomed, “These are the two that have come from Horon.”

“Take a seat,” Darunia replied. The room had no sort of furnishings, nor did he gesture to any particular spot. Link followed Ganon’s lead and the two knelt down opposite him.

The bejewelled Goron circled around to join the other chieftain. “I am Darmani. Your presence here is appreciated. Now, tell us… what did brother Oki tell you about our situation?”

“We were instructed to hear it from the chieftain.” Ganon spoke with absolute authority, and Link was more than content to allow it.

Darunia hummed, low and gruff. Darmani continued in his stead. “We would like to know what the situation is in your village. Whether things have become… _dangerous_ at all.”

If Darmani’s gaze had been intimidating before, it was nothing compared to the way Darunia examined them. His eyes had narrowed, deep and black, without pupil. Link shifted in his seat and bowed his head.

“In what way?” Ganon asked.

“I suppose that might suffice as an answer in itself. I will ask you more directly to make certain: has the village been attacked by beasts of late?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Hm… I see. Then they’ve not strayed that far down the mountain. In that case—”

Darunia raised a hand, and Darmani fell silent. “You,” he said, bracing his palm against his knee to push himself to his feet, “Let me see your ears.”

Ganon tensed, and Link’s breath caught in his throat. He dared not reach to check how badly they were exposed, and dared not lift his gaze. Ganon attempted to deflect the command, brushing aside his own hair. “Of course. What do you need to see them f—”

“Not you.” To no avail. Darunia approached. A looming shadow over Link’s seated form. A stone guillotine ready to crash down upon his neck. Link sat in place, hands clasped around his legs, staring at his lap as though it would take him elsewhere.

“Pull back your hair. I won’t tell you again, even if you stand here as our guest.” He stood so close that Link felt no choice but to obey. With shaking hand he brushed aside the blond barrier, baring his pierced ear in full view. It was clear now that these Gorons had nothing to do with the Gorman Brothers, but he inhaled a shaking breath. There was no telling how they would react. There was _never_ telling how anyone would react outside from when they were displayed as an oddity for the amusement of a paying crowd.

Darunia made no immediate comment. His stone joints ground together as he leaned forward, hands on his knees, to examine Link in closer detail. The Goron didn’t breathe, Link realized. No heat of breath against the side of his face, no movement of his chest. Ganon glowered at him and one hand rested on the side of Link’s arm. Now _that_ was a breath he could feel. Sharp. Wary.

“You’re Hylian, not human.” Darunia pulled back. Link scooted closer to Ganon, concealing his ear once more. “And you—” He jabbed a finger at Ganon this time, “You’re no human, either. If I didn’t know better… I would even say you were Gerudo. The nose,” he gestured sharply to the flat of his face where two nostrils hid amid the imperfections of the stone, “Sickly skin, gives it away. Am I wrong?”

“No,” Link spoke up this time, quiet. Ganon’s every move prickled with rising hostility. A lie would help them none. Even if it hurt him to admit it. He forced himself to look Darunia in the eye, then shook his head. To his surprise, Darunia’s expression shifted none.

“I haven’t seen the likes of Hylian nor Gerudo in decades. I haven’t even heard _rumours_. Tell me how this is so when you’ve been living in Horon right under my nose.”

Ganon’s grip tightened. Link ignored it. “We don’t.”

“And what am I supposed to make of this? Right now, I see two liars who have wormed their way into our home.”

“Darunia,” Darmani interrupted, “Sit down. I have a question of my own to ask. You said you came from Horon— is _this_ true?”

Link nodded. Darunia remained on his feet, a hovering presence that gave Link the impression of a dormant volcano. Calm, but who knew what raging inferno boiled within? Miyu, the Gormans… they were volcanoes too, but lacked the rock body— the _literalness_ of the metaphor. He could no longer bear Darunia’s gaze. Darmani was a kinder sight to behold, his posture relaxed in comparison. Not to mention the greater distance between them.

“Why are you here?” Darmani asked.

Such a simple question, but Link did not know the answer. How would they take the truth? Even more important, how would they be able to lie otherwise? Ganon opened his mouth. No time to think; he had to speak _now_. There was no telling what Ganon would say.

“We ran away.”

“And what were you running from?”

“…the troupe.”

“What might that be?”

Link had only delayed the inevitable. Ganon barked before Link had a further chance to speak. “The troupe that make us _dance_ like animals for profit. Are you going to try and drag us back?” Ganon sprung to his feet, a bristling wolf. In a flash he stood over Darmani in the same manner Darunia hung over Link, fingers coiled into fists that could pop at any second. Darunia growled, low and paralyzing, but Darmani moved nary an inch. “Sell us out because we’re _Hylian—”_ he spat the words, “ _Gerudo_? I would rather _die_!”

“You’ll live to see another day, then.” Darmani glanced up, expression flat but brows arched. “I have no intention of dragging anyone anywhere. Neither does Darunia.” The name was spoken as chastise. A firm reminder for Darunia to take a step back, to calm the expression that had dissolved into a contorted show of fang.

Still, Darunia bristled. “And what do you suppose we do with them, Darmani? They aren’t here to help us.”

“They aren’t here to hurt us, either. Just because we haven’t had guests in a while doesn’t make for an excuse to abandon our sense of hospitality.”

Darunia sighed, though it ended a sharp snarl. He turned his back to Link, exposing a shell of pointed rocks that could easily dash a man to pieces with enough force. With the flippant wave of his hand, he replied, “ _Fine._ But they won’t be my responsibility, Darmani. We have enough to deal with as it is. And if you were smart, you wouldn’t ei—”

“I will tend to them, Darunia. In fact,” with a heavy grunt and the clatter of countless jewels around his neck, Darmani stood. “Come, the two of you. I will see you to the guest dens. And get some human food into the two of you… your stomachs are almost as loud as a pair of dodongos.”

Link and Ganon exchanged looks, Ganon still puffed up, but slowly releasing his adrenaline. Food was a word Link had never been happier to hear. Especially now that Ganon’s attempt at intimidation resembled a childish imitation against the full height of a Goron chieftain.

They left without any further conversation, abandoning the stifling heat of the fire and Darunia, who still would not turn back to face them.


	8. Chapter 8

Link’s stomach had fallen silent after dinner, but now it screamed out in a foreign way that pinned him against the length of his bed, desperate to be rid of it. Not that their dinner had been terrible— no, quite the contrary. It had been nothing short of wonderful. For a group that he had already observed dining on rocks, the self-titled ‘chef’ of the clan had prowess. Salads of plants freshly collected off the mountainside and meats of all kinds that dripped with succulent sauces… any sense of self-restraint Link had vowed to keep going into dinner fell to the wayside at once. Ganon had been slightly more stubborn, but by the end of it, he too had his fill, and then some.

The only problem was that Link could not remember the last time he had eaten something so rich. Cradling his stomach, he almost longed for the bland, mushy textures of the troupe’s misshapen loaves of bread and watery broths. Ganon, who laid across the room on the opposite bed, made no noise above Link’s whining groans. However, he also had not moved an inch since their return.

A shame, because Link had also never been in a room quite like this. Not as luxurious as the estate in Horon, but he preferred this one by far. It was warm, like all the rest of the underground city, with conservative patterns lining the perimeter of the inside. His bed was more so a mound of cushions and blankets, but it was perfect for a young man who usually slept in a creaking cot in the cold of a tent.

It even had a stone table and stools to boot— the only such thing he had seen in this entire labyrinth. They had dined on the floor earlier, cross legged and in the company of a few curious Goron who had come to observe the human diet.

“When will this pass?” Ganon moaned at last, tilting his head to glance at Link. His face was gaunt, a few beads of sweat on his crimson brow. For some reason, this resonated with him.

_Am I sweating, too?_

Ganon frowned. “Is that really the thing to be worried about?”

And in direct contrast, Link smiled. Small and cheeky. _Just wondering._

“…tch. Your hair is all over the place. I can’t tell.”

The one hand that had abandoned the task of putting pressure on his gut went to flip some of it over his shoulder, collecting a bit of stray moisture from his face. _I am_. _At least you’re not the only one._

Ganon rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to be here much longer, Link.”

_Why? They’ve been… nice._

“For how long? I don’t trust them. I have a suspicion that they’re playing us for fools. Going to Horon as we speak.”

He had to think about that. Not a single one of the Goron had laid hands on them, even if Darunia seemed ready to change that on a moment’s notice. Their faces hadn’t lit with even a spark of recognition at the mention of the troupe. Their meal had been made with great care, and the Goron made conversation at every given opportunity. Not a one-way exchange, either. For every question they asked about ‘the humans’ came an explanation as to why the city was laid out as it was, the tale of how the great clan artist Figo came to be, and how they raced down the mountain without needing to look up.

_I trust them_. Link signed.

“I hope you’re right. But people are fickle… two-faced.”

_I know_.

“Ever the fool.” Ganon closed his eyes. Link followed suit. A vomit and some tossing and turning later, he drifted to sleep and dreamt a dream. The forgettable kind, that would have long since slipped from memory by the time he woke. 

 

* * *

 

Darmani stood in the door when Link first stirred, disturbed by the sound of conversation. Link slid up in the pile of cushions, realizing with a back-handed eye rub that Darmani was conversing with Ganon, who sat at the table with his cheek propped up by a knuckle. Both Gerudo and Goron fell silent and turned to him, Ganon with a displeased air, and Darmani aglow with an emotion Link couldn’t quite place.

“You must have been tired, Hylian. Your companion has told me your name is Link— do you mind if I address you as such?”

It was a little too much to ask so soon after waking. Link stared, jaw slightly agape, until the question truly sunk in. He shook his head. Darmani continued. “We have much to discuss. Would you like to eat beforehand?” Another shake of denial. His stomach gargled violently and sent another ache through his abdomen.

“He was asking where we wanted to go from here,” Ganon interjected, narrowed eyes shifting constantly between the other two. “I told him it doesn’t matter. I want to know why you’re so interested.”

The stool beside Ganon beckoned him, but the heaviness of Link’s body kept him firmly cocooned in his blankets. Instead he murmured in assent, and reiterated: “Why?”

“Are you _that_ suspicious of us?” Darmani didn’t wait for an answer. “As I’ve said, I have no intention of forcing either of you back down the mountain against your wishes. Darunia may be a volatile sort, but it has nothing to do with your presence. The two of you seem to be wandering without goal— and I wish to lend my hand, however I might. That is the Goron way.”

It was enough to satiate Ganon, if only enough that he leaned back in his seat and rested the back of his head against the wall. Link could still see the hesitance on his lips. But with each conversation, Link found himself more and more intrigued by these people, their apparent selflessness and the way their eyes reflected Link and Ganon as equals.

Thus he spoke. “We want far away from here.” He worried in the aftermath of his words that Darmani would take it as a slight, and in uncertain pronunciation, added “Holodrum.”

“Oh? Out of the country? To where, exactly?”

“ _It doesn’t matter_ ,” Ganon said. “Somewhere that _isn’t here_.”

“Hm.” Darmani hung his head and drummed his fingertips against his biceps. “Such a simple request under normal circumstances…”

“…monsters?” Link asked in response to the pensive frown that had dawned on Darmani’s face. To which he offered a reluctant nod.

“Our mines have always offered safe passage from Holodrum into Hyrule, yes. But I would never put the lives of our guests on the line with the creatures that it has begun to spit up. And I can’t spare any bodies long enough to escort you through the mainland…”

Ganon’s nose wrinkled. “What does that mean, then? That your offer for help is an empty one?”

For the first time since their arrival, Darmani’s face twitched with sour distaste. “I said that I will help however I can. What I cannot help is that I am responsible for this clan, and responsible for holding the creatures in the mines at bay. I may feel for your plight, but the clan comes first.” He pivoted on his heel. “I will see what can be done. I make no promises.” Any other subjects of conversation on his mind were gone. His words developed a slight tinge of frost. “You know where to go when you are hungry, and you are welcome to walk among us in the meantime.”

His frame disappeared from the entryway, and his shadow after that. Ganon huffed. Link pulled his hands from beneath the blankets, though he tightened the curl of his body. When Ganon looked his way, fingers flew in delicate motions. _He was going to help us. Why are you so angry?_

“His tone suggested otherwise.”

_But you were rude. I told you... I trust them!_

“That doesn’t mean they’re actually trustworthy, Link.”

_We have nowhere else to go. What do we have to lose?_

“Our freedom,” was Ganon’s instant retort. Link’s hands fell limp onto his lap, and the Gerudo caved. “Bah. Fine, Link. I only want you to keep in mind that if you’re wrong, there won’t be a chance for me to say ‘I told you so’.”

_Thank you._ He didn’t need the hand gestures. His small smile said it better.

Ganon rolled his eyes again. A dry sort of gesture that he would never get away with under the troupe’s thumb. Somehow that reminder made Link smile wider. Ganon rose, and started for the door. “If that’s all, I’m going to get something to eat. I’ll bring you back something so you don’t have to move.”

An offer that, oddly enough, brought him to cast aside the blankets and stumble to his feet with a nauseated grimace before he had the sense to stop himself. _No, I’ll come_. A mistake, he knew. Instead of protest, Ganon wordlessly slung Link’s arm around his shoulder, and the two departed side-by-side.

 

* * *

 

The newcomer arrived three days later, albeit with far less fanfare. Leaving Ganon to catch a little bit more rest, Link dared for the first time to explore without the Gerudo at his side. He went so far as the hub, and even then lingered close to the path that led to their chambers. Over the shoulder of a small Goron, he had been observing a casual game of some sort that involved tossing pebbles and collecting them again. The rules made little sense to him, but the two at play were content. 

He entered without entourage. A lithe but short man garbed in a cloak of patterned velvet that trailed at the back of his knees as he walked. His hair rivalled Link’s in length, winning out by an inch or two and braided carefully over one shoulder. Its lavender hue did little to complement the man’s pale skin, but certainly brought out his eyes, a deep, dark terracotta that looked straight ahead and nowhere else.

“Brother! It has been so long!” The Gorons looked up from their game as another of their kin waddled past with arms outstretched. The cloaked man, in spite of his focused gaze, stopped and reciprocated a hug that made Link’s chest hurt merely by watching. The man pulled back at the end, unfazed.

“The Oracle caught wind of your troubles. I came as soon as she delivered the message.” He flicked a glance over the Goron’s shoulder. A prickle of electricity crawled up the back of Link’s neck when he caught the man’s eyes, however brief the exchange. “Please, if it is no trouble, I desire to meet with your chieftains as soon as possible.”

“Of course, my brother. Come, I will take you to him at once!”

The man dismissed this with the wave of his open palm. “I don’t wish to be stubborn, but I would have him meet me out here… just this once.”

“….uhhhh… if that is what you want, brother, I will make it happen!”

He lowered himself into a bow and held himself there, further widening the vast height discrepancy. “Very gracious of you to understand. Please, make haste so that we can resolve these unpleasant troubles.”

Before Link knew it, the Goron waddled off in another direction, the two beside him resumed their game, and the cloaked man made for him in militant stride. This man was a brother to these people, yet Link couldn’t help himself from stepping back when he offered a hand in greeting.

“Colour me intrigued,” the man said, maintaining the pose until Link felt he had no choice but to delicately take the hand and endure the single, firm shake. “Guests of the Gorons that are not among the Royal Family… such a rare sight indeed.” Small, pointed canines peeked out from the thin expanse of his lips. “I am Vaati, representative of Her Royal Majesty, Queen Zelda the Tenth. And you are…?”

Few of those words meant anything at all. His jaw shuddered, and then he managed: “Link.”

Vaati laughed, a muted _ohoho_ behind the cover of his hand. “A most lovely name. I am most certain I will be here on business for several days… we will have to acquaint one-another when I have the chance. As I’m afraid duty calls, and a most urgent duty at that.” His gaze had wandered toward an approaching Darunia. Stepping past Link, Vaati’s figure swept into another bow. Link almost envied the way he made Darunia’s hard features melt like putty. The result was not happiness, but it was a calm respect that made him far less imposing.

Were his eyes playing tricks on him? Link couldn’t help but wonder as the two headed off, enveloped instantly in conversation. It almost appeared as though Vaati’s sandals didn’t even touch the ground, but instead hovered just above the surface in soundless poise.

Quietly, he excused himself from the Gorons at play, and slipped into the passage leading to his room, ignorant of Vaati’s backwards glance.


	9. Chapter 9

“A real human running around?” Ganon asked between small bites of meat, each one strategically popped into his mouth whenever he felt his stomach had successfully handled the last. Link’s appetite, quite contrarily, had vanished. Each bite was forced, and he preferred the herbs and plants instead. Those didn’t hurt as bad. “You know how I feel about that already.”

Ganon’s scowl did indeed speak for itself. _He went on about a royal family. The Gorons liked him enough. He’s been here before. I think he’s a warrior._

“Maybe he’s not from Holodrum at all. If there were any royalty here, I’m sure we would have been _gawked_ at by them already.”

_Maybe_. Link pawed at his food, the leafy greens more appealing as a game than nourishment. He tore them to tiny little pieces one by one, his bowl beginning to resemble confetti. Hands pulled away just long enough to speak. _I want to ask if he’ll take us out of here._

“You know, you’re no fool, Link. You’re mad.” Ganon said in begruntled tone, “No human would do such a thing out of the kindness of their heart. We have nothing to give.”

_What about Darmani? His offer…_

“I doubt he’d be willing to do anything at all. You heard him. Empty promises.”

_You didn’t give him a chance._

“Hmph. He’s not keen on me, link.”

_What if I talk to him?_

“…if you really think you could get something out of it. What do we have to lose,” he echoed, a hint of sarcasm on his tongue. Link leapt to his feet at once, dinner abandoned for the new mission at hand. Ganon blinked. Through a meat cube fresh in his jaws, he fumbled: “What, right now?”

_I’m not hungry, anyway._

That, and the nerves reverberating in his stomach cavity were beginning to overtake the surge of confidence. Link made off on his own. Ganon’s footsteps joined him a minute later, rushed to catch up to the Hylian’s side. He grumbled something or other, but Link couldn’t parse it through all the food now crammed in his mouth.

A palm against the wall— that was the summoning call. He trotted up to the pelt curtain and slammed his open hand against the stone, mimicking Rorogoro’s gesture from days past. The resulting slap was underwhelming. A quiet _flaack_ sound that barely reached Link’s ears. Quite frankly, he didn’t know what else to do. He stood a deer in the crosshairs of a hunter’s bow. A Goron observing from afar started to his feet to come to Link’s rescue, but Ganon reached him first, and unceremoniously shoved him through the pelt curtain out of impatience.

The force of the push sent Link stumbling a few extra paces forward. He became acutely aware that the murmur of the room had turned to stone cold silence, and when he straightened himself up, he found three sets of eyes upon his shoulders. Darunia, his surprise not yet set into irritation. Darmani with stick in hand, mid-stroke of a drawing etched into the dirt. Then there was Vaati, seated cross legged not on the ground, but in the air, as though held in place by firm, invisible supports.

“Do you not understand what a closed door means, Hylian?” Darunia was the first to speak, loose fists further curling inward.

Darmani’s voice was softer, but not by much. “If you have something to say, say it, Link. We have matters of vital importance on the table.”

“Oh, my.” Vaati shook his head. “If he made his case now, there wouldn’t be time at all to think it over. Why don’t you stick around while we finish up? Then you’ll have their full attention after.”

“Stick around? Absolutely not! I want you out of here!” Darunia barked.

“Now, now. That would be a waste of time. Even a minute counts in these troubled times. Link, take a seat.” Vaati never smiled, but there was an air of perpetual contentment that surrounded him. A confidence that settled the growing tension. Darmani resumed his task. 

Darunia, with a final stink eye shot towards Link’s obediently seated form, turned to the flame, but not without another comment. “Not a _word_ from you, Hylian. Or I’ll throw you out myself.”

Link shrunk back. He pressed his spine against the wall. A horrid and sudden chill instructed him to keep still, to make himself as small as possible, but to listen in keenly, gaze fluttering back and forth between Darunia and Vaati’s blatant disregard for the laws of reality. In his silence, the first thing he realized was that despite the stifling heat of the room, this time he could feel a slight breeze against his cheek. A welcome reprieve.

“…so,” Darmani began again, an awkward awareness of the new pair of ears clear in his tone, “You believe there’s a queen laying eggs up there?”

Vaati nodded. “Most certainly. The dodongoes were thickest in that area. If you would prefer a more certain answer, I would gladly go and scout it out myself.”

“Not on your own,” Darunia said, “You were lucky enough to get through the mines once unscathed.”

“You needn’t worry so much about me. My magics are potent.” Vaati’s tongue held onto the word _magic_ a little longer than need be. Yes… of course that was how Vaati played with the air as though it were a physical object to touch. Real magic, not the smoke-and-mirrors kind that relied on sleight of hand and alchemists’ brews. Link must have made a small gasp— Vaati shot him a knowing sideways glance, but it must have also been quiet enough that neither Darmani nor Darunia paid him any mind.

“I won’t have it, Vaati. I’ll send the second watch alongside you if you insist on it. I don’t think it’s necessary, myself. I have faith in your abilities. If you say the beast is there, then I’ll muster up the forces to head down there _tonight_.”

“Darunia,” Darmani said sternly, “We have too many injured to go at this head-on.”

“And we’ll have _more_ injured if we keep playing the defensive!”

Injuries? Link racked his brain, and yet he couldn’t think of a single Goron he’d seen with so much as a scratch. He hadn’t the faintest clue such a thing was even happening, but the number of Goron in the hub or by the guest rooms had dwindled, now that he thought about it. His stomach sank.

“The number of our wounded has been stable lately. We’ll be fine to think more on this for at least a few days.”

“Fine! I’ll go myself,” Darunia announced, throwing his hands upward. Both Darmani and Vaati seemed ready to interject, but he added, “If you take issue with that, you can come with me. The people of Horon seem to care little about sending aid, and it’ll take far too long for further reinforcements from Hyrule Castle to arrive. It needs to be dealt with.”

“…I’ll help,” Link said in spite of his vow of silence. Of all the things Darunia expected, he guessed that wasn’t one of them by the way the Goron chief stopped short.

The invisible pedestal that served as Vaati’s throne dissipated, and gravity took a gentle hold, one sandal touching down before the other. “Oh? If I might be bold, you don’t appear to be the warrior sort.”

“You helped us,” Link replied. He didn’t have a good answer to the comment. He _was_ no warrior. If anyone had those sorts of capabilities, it would be Ganon. But it stung, the knowledge that while they relished in the luxuries provided to them, their hosts were fighting an unseen battle.

“I don’t need an extra liability on my hands,” Darunia said, animation returning to his body bit by bit.

“I can see a use for him.” Vaati drew near, a hand extending to help Link to his feet. Once there, he took Link’s wrist in his hand, turning it over, examining his arm. “Even someone inexperienced can handle the eggs and infants. One less task for us to preoccupy ourselves with. Keep him near the rear… out of the direct line of fire. Darmani? What do you say?”

Darmani did not respond. He turned his gaze ground-ward, while Darunia mulled it over. Vaati held both hands out now, chest-width apart, palms facing upward. Without so much as a blink, the light between his hands distorted, plunging into a bottomless black, then reforming as steel. Awed, Link almost couldn’t fathom the sudden appearance of a blade in front of him, even as Vaati held it out for him to take. “ _Ohoho_. Don’t be afraid. If you want to be of use, Link, you’ll need a weapon.”

Hesitant at first as though it would shock him on touch, Link took hold of the handle. Weightless and ethereal, until Vaati’s hands returned to his sides. Then the blade gained materiality. He almost dropped it, but managed to keep it suspended, giving it a few choppy swings. Darunia clucked his tongue in disgust. “Vaati. Don’t encourage this.”

“We don’t need you to repay us,” Darmani added to Link, “You’re under no obligations.”

Link nearly nodded out of instinct, a nonverbal _I know_ , but that was not his true thought on the matter. He owed them plenty— and any insistence otherwise only proved his point. “I want to do it,” he replied, “I want to come with you.”

“Stubborn resolve makes for a good soldier,” Vaati said. Darunia waved the comment off. “If we want to move quickly, then we must settle this. Why don’t the two of you organize your forces… in the meantime, _we’ll_ ,” Vaati gestured to Link, “Have a talk. And… ah, perhaps a lesson on how to properly wield a blade. _Huhuhu._ ”

Darunia and Darmani glanced toward one another. A reminder of the stakes ushered a hardened expression on Darunia’s face, while Darmani seemed as though he had something on the tip of his tongue. Without waiting for either of them, Vaati pressed a cool hand against Link’s back and coaxed him forward until his feet began to move on their own toward the exit.

“Vaati…” Darmani called, but already Link had crossed beyond the pelt curtain, the cloaked man at his heels.

He met an unexpected wall on the other side. Not rugged and stony like the Gorons, but green-skinned and warm. Ganon. He straightened himself out, an obvious attempt at disguising an attempt at eavesdropping. Trace clues remained nonetheless; those being a scowl and finely narrowed eyes that flicked from Link to Vaati as soon as he appeared.

The instant repulsion in Ganon’s body language caught his attention most. A backward step and the screwing-up of his nose as though having sniffed a heaping pile of shit. Link did catch, however, a fleeting second of Vaati’s reciprocation— a stiff arch of the brows, but oddly enough, less surprised to see his sickly flesh than he was at the sight of Link. For the first time, Vaati smiled. It was not pretty, the sort of thing you would see on an animal that resembled a smile, but was quite blatantly _not_.

“I almost didn’t believe my ears when Darunia informed me his second guest was a man of the Gerudo tribe. Such an honour.” His hand extended the same way it initially had towards Link, begging for a shake. This time around he noted that Vaati also stooped a little. 

It took pleading hands, a subtle _I think he’ll help us_ , to draw Ganon in. They shook, and Vaati covered his mouth to hide a giggle. “Will you be accompanying us through the mines, as well?”

Ganon lit up in an instant. Chest puffed out and the lines in his face turned smooth. “Yes,” he replied. Whether he had overheard the plan within the chieftain’s chamber or took Vaati’s words to another meaning, Link was uncertain.

“A Hylian, a Gerudo, the Goron and a mere, mere human. Such a motley crew!” Vaati spun past them, and his braid tumbled over the back of his shoulder to hang between his shoulderblades. “My path must be blessed, that I chose to come of my own accord. Oho… well, let’s not dawdle. I have plenty of work to do with the two of you.”

He paused, suddenly drawn in by something below at his waist level. One hand slipped behind his back and the other grabbed the edge of his cape to flick it open. From the depths of the cloak emerged a creature no bigger than Vaati’s hand. A beady, slick eyeball with wings that fluttered furiously to keep it afloat as it began to buzz around. Both Link and Ganon distanced themselves. It was an eye with a bottomless pupil that refused to look away. 

Vaati pulled his cloak back into place, smiled, and said, “I _do_ love an urgent project.”


	10. Chapter 10

The night was over before it had begun. Or at least it seemed that way, stepping outside into the dawn light. Link’s hand moved to shield his eyes from the sun he had almost forgotten within the depths of the rock womb the Goron called home. His other hand was settled on the hilt of his blade, now hung in a sheath at his side. As he adjusted to the land above ground, the world below appeared to him for the very first time. He hadn’t thought to glance down on their first ascent, driven by an aching hunger and fear of what might be lurking behind him. Now he witnessed it, the land of Holodrum sprawled across the foot of the mountain like a man bowed to a god. Rolling grasslands dotted with trees, hills and valleys that flowed to the end of existence, to the foot of another cradle of mountains far, far away. He could even see the town of Horon. Once a giant, now an ant. A single, smaller village lurked in the shadows, almost hidden entirely from Link’s gaze. If there were any other settlements, they were tucked away beneath a blanket of foliage.

He would have admired it longer if he didn’t feel the abrupt bump of a Goron behind him that hadn’t been paying attention to what was ahead. With an apologetic bow of the head, Link sidestepped out of the way, so that his form didn’t preoccupy the mouth of the cavern. A backward glance showed that Ganon had not been right behind him, but a few rock bodies later, he emerged with a blade of his own in tow— again, one of Vaati’s design.

_Look_ , Link signed, pointing with a finger out at the speckled dots that made up the town they had fled from.

“Little brother,” came an inquiring voice. Wara approached, no longer bare skinned, but face marked with war paint. “I have seen you do that with your hands many times now,” he flung his fingers around in an attempt to mimic it, “And I am curious. What are you doing?”

A question he had not heard for a few years now. It took him a stunned moment to put an answer together. Simple and short. “Speaking.”

Wara laughed as though he had said the funniest joke in the world. “No, little brother! With your hands! You move them around, and your fingers do strange things.”

He didn’t know how to explain it better. Fortunately, he didn’t have to. Darunia appeared from the tunnels next, pausing to hover among the small group that had assembled. “It’s a language, brother.”

“Chieftain…! Are you sure? It feels like you are making a joke that all of you are in on. I’ve never heard it before…”

“You wouldn’t, unless you lived among a select few humans. Or the Hylians.” Darunia replied before he resumed his walk. “Come. There will be time to talk idly when the threat is neutralized. I will explain along the way.”

To Darunia, Link was invisible. Yet Link could not help but feel a sudden awe— all at the simple fact that Darunia knew of his tongue, of his people. The three of them rejoined the procession of warriors, Link and Ganon behind the two Goron. He listened to their conversation with renewed intent, eyes now aglow as he looked to Darunia.

“It is a tongue for those who cannot hear, my brother. A tongue the Hylians were fond of, as well. No matter how keen their ears.”

At that, Wara whipped around entirely to look at Link. He grimaced a little at the precariousness of Wara’s backward walk at such a height, but Wara paid that no mind. “Little brother! I want to talk this language, too! What does this mean?” He gestured with his hands, a nonsensical arrangement of thick fingers.

He stared at first, then shook his head with a small smile. “Try this.” A flat hand moved to his lips, then fell downward toward Wara. A gesture that would have been a kiss if his lips had been puckered.

A sign that took the Goron twice before Link awarded him with a nod. “Means you’re grateful.”

Wara hooted, and repeated the sign. Three times. “I am very grateful, little brother! I am grateful to you too, chie—” He turned to show Darunia, but Darunia had already moved several paces ahead. Always looking to the path ahead. Paying no mind to the road behind. Wara’s expression fell, but perked a little when he gestured again at Link, a kiss of thanks. When Wara looked away, Link jabbed Ganon in the side with his elbow. Lightly. The barest of touches, but enough to get Ganon’s attention.

_What do you think of them now?_

Ganon grunted, sighed, and made another reluctant noise before his own hands spoke back, unwilling to say it aloud.

_They’re alright. For now._

For now was good enough. The sun beamed down on Link’s shoulders, warm and fulfilled. Link beamed back.

 

* * *

 

The tinny inhales of a dozen dodongoes greeted them at the mouth of the mine. None were within sight, but their shuffling movements and occasional stomps travelled farther than the range of Link’s eyes. Even here, the tunnels were lined with perpetually flaming torches. They were sparse, but frequent enough that the perimeters of the fire’s glow kissed one another— for the most part. They had fallen into formation now, the chieftains treading new ground, the Gorons behind them. Link and Ganon remained side by side, and every so often the fluttering eyeball would fly past them as a reminder that Vaati held the rear, unseen.

He hated that thing. Always moist to one degree or another, with a film that would slide shut like a door every time it blinked. It was a hummingbird, but girthy, without feathers, and undeniably one of the ugliest things Link had ever seen. The colour of the sclera wasn’t even vaguely humanoid— it was a deep, dark purple that made the red of the iris a demon in the dark when it was not directly lit by the torches. Link kept close to Ganon, drifting even closer when it made its rounds.

Every so often, an inhuman shriek echoed down the tunnel. The squelch of crushed bone and the grind of rock against rock often accompanied it. Darunia and Darmani’s living shield was impenetrable. He wondered where the threat was, and as he did, they came upon it. The tunnel petered out into a room of generous size, and a track ran through it, though there were no carts in sight. Piles of rocks laid strewn across the area, and strewn across them in turn were a pair of dodongoes far larger than the corpses Link had stepped on now and again.

Darunia and Darmani had come to a halt, and now that the group was once again in single congregation, Vaati appeared once more. The eyeball flew to his side, obedient and tame like some sort of perverse house pet. Prepare yourselves,” he said in a sing-song tone, “They aren’t alone.”

Darunia cocked his head to one side, a gesture that meant something to the Goron, as a few of them broke off from the group to join him as he circled closer to the largest of the dodongoes. Darmani opted for a verbal command. A quiet, “Stand your ground.”

Then it started, so quick that Link’s heart nearly crashed violently into his lungs. Darunia charged for his target, clapped his hands together into a single fist, and aimed to slam the entire force of his mountainous arms down on the creature’s head. For a large beast, it reacted quicker than Link would have thought, baring a mouth of jagged teeth to catch Darunia’s hands and shrug them off. Wara shoulder-checked the creature, but even the weight of a small hill barely made it budge. They stood close to the creature, hovering over it, and Link realized just how massive these dragon-like monsters truly were: the same height as Darunia, and three times as long.

Vaati laughed. It was the same musical _ohoho!_ he gave in casual conversation, but this time, it was the accompaniment to the flick of his hand and a subsequent invisible force that plowed into the second Dodongo. It barrelled into the wall behind it with a crack, visibly knocking the breath from its lungs with a puff of smoke and a wheeze. Darmani didn’t pass up the opportunity. Tucking himself into a ball of jagged rock, he plowed into it, and the Dodongo screeched.

“Little brothers!” One of the Goron close to Link cried out. “It’s almost your turn!”

Link had no idea what that was supposed to mean, until the light down a nearby tunnel began to flicker. His stomach clenched. He drew his blade, spare hand reaching out to feel Ganon’s arm and ensure he was still close. There was no prying his gaze away from the horrible sight of the tiny dodongoes that swarmed toward them. On the ground, the walls, even the ceiling— one no larger than Link’s foot tumbled onto his shoulder from above and onto the ground. His first instinct was to kick it away, and his next was to swing with abandon toward the more matured ones that were now upon them.

All the practice in the world wouldn’t have prepared him for the sensation of piercing through flesh. These infants had fewer scales than their massive counterparts, and the blade cut with ease, but there was still the resistance: the moment of force before young dodongo went limp. Jagged teeth tore into Link’s back, and out of panic, he slammed himself against the closest wall until a particularly small dodongo lost its grip. The others aimed for the heels with their jaws, tiny gusts of flaming breath that burned through his pant legs and charred the skin. 

The swarm was beginning to taper out in spite of the setbacks, but there was no time to catch his breath. The tunnels shifted with larger shadows still. Most startlingly was the thunderous snarl that seemed to come from all directions at once— a distant noise, and a reminder of a looming threat far worse than the mincemeat they were facing now.

“Link!” Ganon snarled, “To your left!”

Their Goron guardians had scattered by now. Preoccupied with their own battles. Link spun, narrowly sidestepping the gnashing lunge of a small, but fully grown dodongo. The swipe of his sword deflected off the creature’s natural armor. Link stumbled back. Ganon attempted a blow of his own, a forward thrust that, hand-in-hand with the ripple of Ganon’s muscles, wedged itself between the scales and drew blood. The creature reared back its head, sucked in a breath, and opened its mouth to spray flame, but at the last moment it jerked its head in Link’s direction, aiming for him rather than the immediate threat.

There was no time to move. But the heat never reached his widened eyes. Darunia stepped in front of him and his body ate the fire without so much as a single noise. He looked more feral than man, the tips of his jagged shell bathed in the black of dodongo blood. Still half-impaled on Ganon’s sword, the dodongo inhaled another breath. This time Darunia took hold of its jaws, and with a mighty growl, split the thing in two right down to the back of its throat.

“The matriarch comes!” Vaati had once again abandoned the ground in favour of the air. His cloak billowed behind him with a wind that Link couldn’t feel, and in Vaati’s outstretched hand, the space and time within writhed as Vaati made it bend to his will. “I will hold her at bay!”

“Vaati!” Darunia roared in response, but it was too late. The sorcerer flew further into the depths of the mine, leaving behind naught but a twitching eyeball in his place.

Link’s ankles seethed with every movement, and burn blisters rubbed against the rims of his boots to the point of tears. Yet he started off in a blind sprint after Vaati. If someone called out his name too, he would not have heard it. The queen screamed, closer than before. One man against a dodongo any larger than the first two filled him with dread. Without a doubt, something capable of shaking the mines with its cries was huge.

It was the sort of huge he could barely fathom until he laid eyes upon it. He hammered to a halt. What had once been a shaft of multiple stories had collapsed. Metal bridges and equipment laid in scattered pieces across the ground. The dodongo queen had the height of at least one story, her fangs the size of her children. Eggs, both whole and destroyed, littered the area. A nest of considerable size stood out even from where Link stood, behind the protective legs of a scaled monstrosity.

Her head peered into a tunnel off to one side, gnashing at something he couldn’t see. Vaati? Could he truly have gotten all the way over there already? Link stumbled back. Heart hammered in his chest, and he realized that his throat had dried up in the span of a moment. Or was it simply from the stifling burn of the atmosphere? There was no time to think. He made for the nearest clutch of eggs, and rammed them through with his blade. The queen pulled back from her tunnel of interest and screeched. His ears rattled.

“Ahahaha!” Vaati emerged from an upper level tunnel. His hands crackled audibly with magic, and while the queen charged for Link, shot a spear of black nothingness the size of a tree trunk through her side. It gave Link just enough time to retreat, to put distance between himself and her. “You surprise me more and more, Link! Keep going! Play with her!”

As he backed up, his ankles hit against something. He very nearly swung at it out of instinct, but stayed his blade. It was a steel crate, collapsed on its side. Marked in the incomprehensible language of the Goron, writ in bold red.

“Hylian!” Darunia’s voice boomed from the same entrance Link had come through. A striking urgency in his tone made Link freeze in spite of the dodongo rearing to come at him again. “Get away from that! They could explode—” his voice cut off with a hard grunt, and whatever he had to say turned to struggle.

From the endless maw of the dodongo queen came a blast of feverish heat. Link ran to one side, propelled by fear, not strategy. Her breath was that of magma, an ooze that splattered against the walls, the ground, and all across the spot where Link had just been standing. He gasped for breath as he sprinted, every inch of his shirt drenched in sweat. Behind him the ground shook, not from a roar or from movement, but from a genuine explosion that nearly knocked Link right off his feet.

Chunks of melted metal rained down upon him. Link screamed at a scrap that blew right past his cheek, scorching the skin. With a shuddering wheeze and a stagger backwards, he realized it was shrapnel from the steel crates. Even the wall behind it was now a crater in its own right.

Another spear, void like the depths of a black hole, plunged straight through the queen’s hind leg. She craned her head backwards, a desperate attempt to see what had wounded her. It gave Link time enough to sheathe his sword, clutch his cheek, and run— though midway to the nearest tunnel, he paused. Whatever had been inside that crate was powerful. Enough that Darunia feared him being near it, and that it could eat away at rock in a single, blinding instant. Eyes scanned the room. Another metal crate sat nestled beside the primary nest.

If he could get it to go off closer to the dodongo queen, surely that would prove a setback to her rampage. If it went off while Link was remotely close to it… he stood in place, locked in self-debate broken by Darunia’s warcry as the Goron chieftain rammed into the queen’s front foot. She stumbled, but the brute strength that had been capable of tearing through a normal dodongo’s jaws was no match for her. She threw herself to the side, crushing Darunia against the closest wall. The entire room trembled, and Link hesitated no longer.

He ran toward the crate, wasting no time in feeling it up, trying to figure out where it opened. The queen took a single glance at him, so close to her beloved eggs, and stomped forward in another charge. Link took hold of the crate lid, but the sheer weight of the metal resisted his pull. There wasn’t enough time to enact his plan in one go. He shoved the lid to the ground, and darted to the side. Away from the eggs, and away from the explosives that he prayed would stay intact.

“Oho! I see your game!” Vaati commented once more from above. “Now see it through to the end!” He raised his opposite hand, and as Link ran past them, a small cluster of eggs shook off their dirt coverings and took to the air. They flew in another direction entirely, the queen’s gaze moving with them. Open palm clenched into a fist, and the eggs imploded from the inside, spattering on the ground. Her sights latched onto Vaati, and from the depths of her throat, summoned another spray of magma toward his hovering form. Link didn’t stop to see whether it connected or not. He turned, and darted back toward the crate. The contents were metal orbs, large but not smooth— a fuse emerging from the neck that Link recognized as such. A bomb. Different than the ones played with for the amusement of a crowd, but a bomb nonetheless. He took it in both hands.

Darunia laid in a slump against the wall. The first time Link had caught notice of him, and it filled him with a frozen dread. Nothing left to do. Vaati had vanished from his perch, and Link moved closer to the hulking beast. He weaved beneath her legs, past the scalding puddles of magma that singed his hair, even tied back and at a distance. The queen was on the lookout for Vaati’s shadowy form, but found Link instead. Precariously close to her face, fully within distance of a snapping bite.

But that was exactly what he was hoping for. The queen opened her maw and lunged for him, and in a spurt of adrenaline that erased all traces of his aches and pains, Link abandoned the bomb and threw all of his weight to one side in a wild, reckless attempt to clear her jaws. Link hit the ground with a winding thud, but his breath had stopped regardless of the hard knock.

The explosion was muffled, but Link felt the heat of it. Not a burn, but a warmth. An oozing warmth, black and viscous. He craned his neck to look behind him, and trembled. The queen squealed. Her stance wavered. Her mouth had a hole blasted straight through the cheek, and though she sputtered magma, it only spurred on her pathetic writhing. Link dragged himself backward, away from the body about to drop, and away from the shadow spear that descended upon her, piercing straight through her skull and into the floor. The world rattled around him when she collapsed, and went silent.

Link heaved, desperate to catch his breath. His heart throbbed painfully in his chest. A _thump-a-thump-a-thump_ that made him lightheaded. Vaati appeared before him, though he looked to the dodongo queen and not his crumpled form. “What a thrill,” he cooed to himself, awed by the monster’s felled corpse. Mid-daydream, however, he snapped to sudden attention and turned his look elsewhere. “Fear not, Darmani! The threat is quelled! If only you had seen Link’s efforts! Ohoho… it made my heart swim.”

No other voices met his ears. Link’s elbows gave out, and he fell back against the dirt. The stings returned with a vengeance. Popped blisters dug their claws into his calves. His cheek felt as though it was still ablaze. Maybe it was— he wasn’t sure at this point. Everything was starting to blur together.

“Tend to Darunia,” Vaati continued. His voice sounded distant. Was he leaving? “I will aid Link— oh? …oh, yes. Of course. Go ahead. I meant no intrusion.”

Link’s eyelids felt heavy. That was a relief. It made the pain go away with everything else, if just a little. They fluttered. 

The last thing he saw before they closed entirely was a vague green silhouette with a faint trace of striking gold.


	11. Chapter 11

Link woke after many cruel false awakenings. His other glimpses of consciousness were vague memories of talking voices, figures that came and went, and the horrid sensation of being moved to lie on his stomach. Sometime between then and now, he returned to lying on his back. Eyelashes drooped with fatigue, but as time passed, he knew it would be impossible to fall back asleep.

His legs pained the most. Knees downward, he feared that if he glanced down, he would find them scorched to the bone. Cheek was a close second, radiating as though it were still freshly burned. 

Burned… yes, there had been a battle, he realized. An explosion had been responsible for the wound to his face. The dodongo matriarch, as Vaati called her. Link inhaled sharply, and attempted to sit up. He floundered instead. Then he realized that he was not alone in this cradle of cushions and blankets. Beside him, now alert, was Ganon. “You… alright?” Link stammered, fingers too racked with pain to communicate.

“Not a scratch,” Ganon murmured, solemn. It wasn’t a lie, either. Link looked him over, eyes flitting from face to bicep, then to abdomen, leg, and back again. He looked unblemished, aside from the faded scars that decorated his body like tattoos. Link didn’t know what to make of it. He gawked, made a gasp of a laugh, then allowed himself to relax at Ganon’s side.

“Farore was watching over you. Winds of fortune…” Link replied. 

Ganon grunted. He glanced off to the side of the room, still perched on an elbow for support instead of lying back all the way. Instead of carrying the conversation forward, he lapsed into rumination. Link could tell by the sudden stiffness of his body, and the distant but dangerous glint in his eye. 

“Say something,” he prompted.

“We didn’t leave the troupe behind to throw our lives away, Link. You could have died, you stubborn idiot… then what would all of this have been for?”

The anger in his growl caught Link off guard. Ganon refused to make eye contact still. “Are the others okay?” A question that wormed into his mind and refused to be denied a voice. The Gerudo’s upper lip curled back.

“Does it matter?”

“Mhm,” Link nodded. A timid gesture held back by the guilt of having ran off without a single word to Ganon. He was right. If Farore had not been with Link every step of the way, death would have likely claimed him before the dodongo queen even drew her last breath.

Ganon tried to maintain his stony composure, but relented with a sigh. “They’ve been clearing out the rest of the mines since we returned. I haven’t heard anything else.”

“Ohoho. But _I_ have.” Both Link and Ganon turned their heads toward the door. Vaati stood in the doorway, and though he couldn’t see the eyeball, he knew it was close by the frantic flapping of its wings. “I’ve been through the mines myself… it’s a game of extermination now, no longer a threat to Death Mountain and her lofty heights. Ah… but what a shame. I’ve brought you your dinner, Ganon—”

“Ganon _dorf_ ,” he corrected, the use of his nickname a foreign sound on another’s tongue.

“Yes, well… _Ganondorf…_ I have your dinner, but I had not realized our heroic Link had stirred from his slumber. I do apologize.” With the wave of his hand, a bowl of stew came into existence in front of Ganon, who eyed it up before reaching out to take it. It made little difference to Link; the scent repulsed him more than it enticed him.

No, there was a different priority on his mind. To Vaati, he asked: “Darunia?”

“Hm? Oh, yes. He did take quite a blow, didn’t he? Ah… but I don’t think I’m the appropriate messenger for that,” Vaati replied. “That’s something you should see for yourself, isn’t it?”

Link’s body throbbed far too intensely to sit up, let alone traverse the mountain for Darunia’s whereabouts. He threw a pleading glance to Ganon, who huffed in return once he realized the intent behind those big blue eyes. Lowering the bowl from his mouth, he said, “I’ll see when I’m done eating.”

Vaati smiled his beastly smile. “I’ll leave you to it. I have work to tend to, myself… so many infants, so little time. It’s a wonder how they bred so quickly…” He turned and yanked at his cape to drape it behind him in dramatic fashion. He left, adding as he went: “The world becomes stranger by the day.”

They were left alone. No noise but the soft sound of Ganon’s eating. It was unusually still, in fact. No voices echoed down the tunnels. No conversation, no laughter, no roughhousing, no tantrums from the nursery across the city. Were he not so exhausted, it might have struck him as odd. The reality, however, was that it was a perfect moment for a hurting young man. The warmth of a friend beside him, and the unspoken sense of security that came with it.

When Ganon cast his bowl aside and rose to his feet, Link reached out to place a hand where he had been lying. It was pleasant heat. Not the heat of the mines or the magma. Heat that came from breath and bone, heart and flesh. Link scooted closer to it, and watched Ganon as he left with naught but a departing nod.

He wasn’t certain how long it took for Darunia to arrive, but when his shadow engulfed the doorway, Link forced himself to attention. He breathed an instant sigh of relief. Not only that Darunia could walk on his own, but nothing seemed amiss. The chieftain crossed his arms over his chest. His look was stern, but no longer tinged with perpetual frustration. “Your friend wanted me to pass along a message. He will not be back for a while. He’s gone to train with Darmani.” The look of confusion that dawned on Link’s face prompted him to elaborate. “Darmani has chosen to teach him in the ways of weaponless combat at his request. He was not pleased to see you in such a state. And neither am I.”

“…I’m sorry,” Link replied, voice small. Darunia shook his head.

“I don’t know whether to scold or praise you, Hylian. Your actions were reckless, and endangered both Vaati and I. But you helped bring an end to a trouble that could have easily grown to disastrous proportions. Darmani will have words for you, that much I can assure. As for myself…” Darunia dipped his head. “I took you for a threat, and in turn, you showed true courage in the face of death itself. I am the one who should offer an apology.”

“Okay. Are you hurt?” The dodongo’s blow had been terrifyingly intense. It seemed too good to be true that not a hair on Darunia’s beard looked burnt.

Darunia snorted. “I have seen far worse, Hylian. Don’t concern yourself with my welfare. The Goron were born to defend the mountains… so defend them I shall. That aside…” He paused. “I know what it is you seek, now. Your friend told me all about that, as well. I will speak with Vaati, and if he will not take you with him into Hyrule when he departs, I will escort you there myself. But I have no doubts he will allow it… Vaati is an eccentric sort, but he is a good man.”

Link was speechless. Not that he had much to say to begin with, but the fact that Darunia, the one with the permanent scowl etched into his stone skin, had arranged for all this under Link’s sleeping nose… a thank you was in order, and it was all he managed to think up.

“This isn’t entirely from the bottom of my heart, Hylian. I am in your debt, and this way, it will be paid.” Despite his words, his face didn’t seem skewed one way or another. No smile, but no frown, either. Just a neutral slate that seemed carefully kept in check. “I will leave you to rest now. One of my brothers will be along to keep watch shortly if you need anything. Though…” Darunia turned, a vague sense of amusement on his lips, “He might talk your Hylian ears right off. A battle with a dodongo queen makes for quite the story… they’re keen to hear it from the source. Good night.”

On his way out, Link realized something. The jagged points of Darunia’s shell were flattened. Splintered off, a crack through the middle that ran diagonally from his shoulder to thigh. Link opened his mouth to protest Darunia’s departure, but it was already too late by the time the meaning of it all sunk in.

With nothing but the dim, flickering light of a single torch on the wall, Link was left alone with his pain and his thoughts in a bed that felt lacking. He knew what it lacked, actually. It was simple. He ran his fingers over the depression in the cushions, longing for the warmth Ganon had brought to it earlier.

 

* * *

 

Home was a word that meant nothing to Link. Maybe when he had been younger, but those memories were hazy at best. The ominous, long-drawn shadows of the caravan wagons might have been familiar surroundings, but they were little more than a prison. Normal for Link, but a prison nonetheless. His tent, despite being his own private refuge, was a house of paper-thin walls that protected no one, let alone its single, ragged tenant. When time came for Vaati’s departure, however, Link realized that the little den he and Ganon had occupied for well over a month was more than just a place to lie his head. 

Their belongings were few. Just a pair of simple blades and some clumsily crafted articles of clothing— cloaks for the bitter mountain winds and leather sandals that felt awkward on the feet, but were presented with such sincerity that Link could not refuse them. That was not much of a problem given their new travel bags. He vowed to tuck the sandals away as soon as they left the mountain range, but for now, he simply had to deal with the tripping and stumbling.

Regardless, once they emptied the room of their personal inventories, it felt peculiar. A veil of distant sadness fell across Link’s shoulders at the sight of the den, restored to the exact position it had been when they first arrived at Goron City. He didn’t want to leave it behind. Even walking down the corridor away from the room, Link felt a sudden hesitance and almost voiced aloud that he wanted to stay. 

_Almost._

Did home feel like this? A safe haven that begged him not to leave it behind? Link wondered. He walked with a slight limp at Ganon’s side. In the plaza, a small crowd of Goron had gathered. Some to say their goodbyes to Vaati, and to pass along messages to everyone from fellow Goron to the Queen herself. Others simply observed, and then there were the ones who perked specifically for Link and Ganon upon their arrival. Darmani stood among them, a vertical landmark among his peers. He parted from the group and cut them off at the pass. Then with a suddenness that made Link wary, he went for Ganon and clapped him hard on the shoulder, winning a grunt. To Link he merely extended a hand. 

His shake was far weaker than the shoulder blow, and Link was grateful for it. Wounds and gashes from the strike on the mines had since begun to scar over and heal, but the pain held tight, like a sailor afraid to abandon a sinking ship. The ankles hurt the worst. If he put too much pressure on one foot at a time, the dull pangs on his calves would turn to fire in little time at all. Even so, he would have smiled at Darmani if the could have shaken the thought of parting with him from his mind.

“I am sad to see you two leaving,” Darmani said, vocalizing those very thoughts in a way that made the corners of Link’s eyes prick with tears. He tried to hide them by glancing in another direction, but they worked their way down his cheeks before he could bring an embarrassed hand to wipe them away.

_Hah hah hah!_ He fully expected an obnoxious laugh. A taunt, a jab, a slap to the face. Darmani stood unchanged. But when a hand came forward to rest on Link’s shoulder, he flinched, and Darmani’s straightlaced demeanour gave way to a frown. A pensive one, at that. “There is no reason to cry at a goodbye,” he said gently, “These mountains have stood at Hyrule’s border since the beginning of time. They will be here whenever you return. And you will always be welcome here for as long as you live— the both of you.”

The tears rushed forward with violence, and though Link now covered his face fully, he gave a choked sob beneath his palms. He didn’t want to imagine where they would have ended up if they hadn’t encountered the Gorons by pure chance alone. Instead of hunger, they had full stomachs and fat on their bones. Ganon’s face looked stronger than it had ever looked before. Instead of exhaustion and dread, they had a room to themselves. A real one, not just walls and a ceiling. They could converse with whoever they wanted, whenever they felt like it.

Darmani _cared._ His heartache intensified. 

“Link.” It was Ganon who called his name, who Link leaned into, and who wrapped an arm around him while careful not to prod at his back wounds. Darmani was a blur between his fingers.

“The world beyond Death Mountain is vast,” Darmani continued, “But I want the two of you to never forget the mark you have left on our lands. Ganondorf, who emerged unscathed from the fires of battle… and Link, our tiny, reckless queenslayer. Remember that, if ever you begin to feel uncertain of your path.” He smiled, and Link pawed away the tears that blocked his vision just in time to see it. “You will both be fine. I know this, and I would stake my life on it. Darunia could not be here to see you off, but I know he would stake his life on it, too.”

Slowly, slowly, the maelstrom of emotion simmered. Link pressed his forehead against Ganon’s chest, sniffled, took a deep breath, and pulled away from him. He rubbed at his cheeks, at the stragglers who refused to be contained.

Darmani wouldn’t understand. Link knew this, but his hands flickered with an outburst of sign nonetheless. _You’ve been so, so good to us. I don’t know if we can ever repay you. I don’t want to leave. I know you can’t take care of us forever, and I don’t want you to feel like we’re taking advantage of your kindness. But I don’t want to leave. I’m worried to see what else is out there in the world. I’m worried Hyrule will be as cruel a place as all the rest. I’ll miss you. I don’t want to leave. I’ll miss you._

At the end of it all, he murmured: “Thank you.” He expected Darmani’s eyes to yield confusion, but to his surprise, Darmani dipped his head and laughed. Quiet, not mocking, but one that felt strangely light coming from such a heavy man.

His stone hands wove words of their own. Link’s heart skipped a beat. _I know many languages._ And in a strange twist of his own, Darmani added: “I will miss you too.”

He turned, and Link’s gaze followed. Vaati sat in his invisible throne, now apart from those who had come to give their farewells. With a cheeky wag of the finger, he gestured them to come. “Perhaps I shouldn’t keep the two of you any longer. Seems Vaati is eager to be off.” Darunia said.

“Goodbye, Darmani.” Ganon replied. His gold eyes no longer had the edge of a knife when he looked upon the chieftain. That was finally what made Link smile, too. He sniffled again. “Hmph. I have the feeling we’ll be meeting sooner than we think.”

“Oh? And why might that be?” Darmani quirked a brow.

Ganon started forward, shepherding Link along with his shoulder-bound arm. He too had a laugh to voice— more a snort, actually. “This one,” he tilted his head toward Link without turning back, “Is a bit of a fool. I’ll be needing more lessons if I have any hope of keeping him in one piece.”

“Then I will be waiting, and looking forward to the day.”

With Vaati, they took their leave. And when the lights grew dimmer, the tunnel-side torches farther apart, Link pretended that he didn’t see Ganon smile in his demure, crooked way.


	12. Chapter 12

The days that followed were widely uneventful, with one exception. Passage through the newly cleared mines was surprisingly brief, though the new sections that Link had not traversed through filled him with unease. Oddly enough, it was the downtrodden corpses of slain dodongoes that kept him going without complaint. That, and the presence of Goron in the mines— even if they were only patrolling, and not really working. 

When the light at the end of the tunnel chose to announce its presence, Ganon’s eyes narrowed into a squint at the sudden brightness that swallowed the shadows of the mines whole even before it came to a close. Link attempted to copy him, but the sun won out, and he shielded his eyes just as they emerged. Even Vaati turned his back to drift facing away from it, who Link had come to view as a demigod among men with his mastery of magic. It was a brief gesture, however, and with an exaggerated spin, raised his hands up and out in a stretch. “Behold. The golden land of Hyrule… _ohoho_. Such a breathtaking view, is it not?”

Eyes settled at last, and Link forced them wider. A golden land, indeed. Lush greenery that flowed across the land, swathed in the sun’s caring glow. Holodrum from the mountaintops looked like a small and withered scrap of land in comparison. Where he could only see the town of Horon on the other side, here he stood witness to several expansive settlements. One by a glittering lake, straddling both sides with a great stone bridge connecting the ends. Another rose proudly to the north of the water. It sat at the base of another mountain range, though like a weed, it appeared to have grown up the side of the rock. From such a distance, it was difficult to tell. Clusters of buildings spotted the countryside in various places. Between the trees, further along the river that fed the lake.

Most impressively, there was the city that stole the centre of the stage with a castle— a real castle— boasting towers that spiralled high into the bold blue of the early afternoon sky.

“Beautiful,” Ganon muttered beneath his breath. Link nodded in agreement, though he didn’t check whether Ganon could see it. His eyes were glued to landscape painted before their eyes, to the distant silhouettes of birds that cut through the air with an ease that rivalled Vaati.

“That,” Vaati said, pointing to the silver castle, “Is our destination. Hyrule Castle, the pride of the people… even more majestic in person. Such a delight, introducing the wonders of the world to fresh eyes. If only you could see the looks on your faces for yourselves.” It was then Link realized that Vaati was watching _them_ , and not the view. With a cheek cradled in the palm of one hand and lips stretched into a loving smile, he seemed just as content as them, if not more. His gaze stuck to Ganon, then moved to Link before he straightened out of his slight slouch and clapped his hands. “We must get ourselves a move on. The day is painfully limited in length…”

Gently, Link took Ganon by the wrist and pulled until golden eyes tore away from the supposed golden land. They followed behind Vaati, who walked the slopes as though they were familiar city streets. _Do you really think we’ll get to see what the castle looks like up close?_ He signed, tapping on Ganon’s bicep whenever his attention strayed to the left or right.

“Wouldn’t that be a dream,” Ganon murmured in reply. “But I don’t think it matters if we don’t. Look at this place…”

Link complied with the rhetorical command, but not before taking note of the eyeball familiar who seemed enthralled by their conversation. How intelligent was that creature, he briefly wondered. Was it simply an animal with an unnerving appearance? Either way, the land cleared his mind of all ponderings with a single glance off the mountainside.

_I heard once that Hyrule doesn’t allow shows. Shows like our old one._

The conversation between dinner guests was a dream by now, and their words only just now drifted into his mind. The Gorman Brothers were like the clouds far above their heads— long and looming, but light, passing thoughts that could do no harm but were nonetheless present for a while.

“Even better,” Ganon said. His hand moved to rest on the hilt of his sheathed sword. “For us and for them.”

_Why them?_

“If they ever had the misfortune of crossing our paths again, they wouldn’t be leaving alive. What is a human compared to a dodongo?” His every word dripped with potent venom, powerful and merciless. Yet Link felt no pity. If they ever crossed paths… the thought of facing them again sent a shiver up the top of his spine. He almost couldn’t fathom taking up arms against them. It was a relief that Ganon could.

When nightfall finally chose to make itself known, and the pleasant orange light of a tired sun graduated to darkness, it was always Vaati who chose when and where to break camp. For three nights they slept uninterrupted first in the brush, then in the sprawling plains beside a pond. The morning come was when Link noticed it. With Vaati gone to forage, he and Ganon took to the water to bathe. As much as he wanted to join Ganon in the deeper parts, he stuck with the shallows, cupping water with his hands to pour on his raw calves. While he worked and washed away the grime of daily life, he saw the dirt on his hand. It was the sort of stain left behind by hard work in the soil, and while he had certainly been working with his hands, he felt as though he would have taken note of it earlier. Hand dipped into the water. The dirt refused to relent. So he dipped it again, this time scrubbing the back of his hand with his opposite palm.

Ganon must have noticed the furrow of his brows. “Link? Is something wrong?” He asked as he waded closer.

“Can’t get my hand clean,” Link replied, alternating between dip and scrub. Ganon lowered himself to a squat and grabbed it to examine it closer. The more Link himself looked, the stranger it became. It almost appeared to be some sort of discolouration. From a scar, perhaps?

No, it couldn’t be. It looked too clean, too uniform. He could tell by Ganon’s expression that his thought process was working in a similar manner, until at last he said, “Am I mad, or does this look familiar?” To justify his sudden thesis, he flattened Link’s hand against his own, and traced along the edge of the discolouration to form an image. “The triangles on Vaati’s brooch? I’m damn sure I saw this in the city, too… on the walls?”

“I see it,” Link said. The question at hand, however, was what to make of it. His flesh displayed four cleanly cut triangles, however faint. Nature would never produce such a mark on her own. In fact, he could see the closest comparison right in front of him. Ganon’s breast had an unnatural mark all to itself— a circular insignia of the troupe mascot. A smiling keaton that would never leave him. With a vicious pull, Link reclaimed his hand and pressed it against his abdomen, hiding the blemish. Eyes widened. Vaati’s brooch… had Vaati _branded_ him? His mouth wagged uselessly, a rising sense of betrayal drowning out everything else.

“What? What’s wrong?” Ganon’s muscles tensed, and he searched their surroundings. But Link shook his head and leaned forward to press a hand against the keaton mark. That was all it took for Ganon to understand his meaning. “Why would he…?”

It didn’t make sense, but it was the only logical explanation he could muster. Which made it all the worse when he heard the wind shift in the near distance— the unique sound of a whistling breeze that haunted Vaati’s every twitch. Both of them froze.

“Did I return too soon?” Vaati cooed. The tone of his lighthearted teasing suddenly felt malicious. Like a wolf ready to sink its teeth into its prey. Link sat in perfect stillness, but Ganon forced himself to resume his motions. Stiff, but at least an attempt to be casual as he moved to clothe himself and settle his blade back around his waist.

“Just in time,” Ganon said, voice low. “I have a question.”

“Oh, my. Is something amiss, Ganondorf?” Was Vaati’s voice innocent, or innocently deceptive? Link’s heart raced. “I will answer what I can.”

Ganon wasted no time. He gestured to the golden brooch that pinned the top of his cloak shut. “What does that mean? The symbol.”

Link summoned his strength, and shifted to face Vaati, who responded with the curious tilt of his head. He glanced downward, then recognition dawned on his face. “That? That is the insignia of the Royal Family of Hyrule. Why do you ask?”

Wrong thing to say.

“You—!” Ganon clenched his teeth. “Is that what you’re doing? Selling us to your _royal family_?!” He spit the words, and wasted no time. Sword slid from its sheath. With an emboldened howl, Ganon charged for Vaati, thrusting the blade right through his chest. Or at least, where his chest had been. In the blink of an eye Vaati appeared at Link’s side, an offended hand close to his heart, lips a soft frown as though he had witnessed a lapse of table manners.

“What? Wherever did you get that idea?” The innocent facade continued, unbroken. Link felt for his own blade, clumsy and desperate, but it was too far away. Far out of arm’s reach.

Golden eyes saw nothing but red. Ganon charged again, a bull with no other intention than to maim his target. Vaati reappeared on the other side of the pond. Ganon’s breath left him in heavy, enraged bursts. “Neither I nor the Royal Family do business in the lives of men, Ganondorf. Please, I wish to hear whatever gave you that impression.”

“Don’t! You—” Ganon sputtered. It was a strange reversal of roles when Ganon could barely speak through his gnashing teeth and crazed eyes. Link stumbled to his feet. The Goron didn’t trust Vaati for nothing. He darted in front of the bull, confident that Ganon wouldn't dare plow through him. “Link! Move!”

“Ganon, wait.” Link whispered. Pleadingly. Ganon hesitated several moments, then took a small step back. In spite of that, his muscles were still poised to lash out in vicious fury. Careful to keep one eye on Ganon, he shot a sideways glance at Vaati, and forced his voice loud enough to be heard. “It’s on my hand. Your mark… is on my hand.”

“…oh? Is that so?” Vaati quirked a brow and his lips fell into a frown. “With both of your permission… might I take a look?”

Link nodded. Then he glanced at Ganon, made eye contact with him, and won a rigid nod. Vaati came forward at a crawl, drifting across the pond surface without so much as causing a ripple in the water. Link extended his hand, palm down, and tried not to shiver in repulsion when Vaati took hold.

“This is not my doing,” he said at once, easing no one’s nerves. “Oh, but I have seen this before… how curious.”

“ _What—is—it._ ” Ganon strained to pronounce each word. Nostrils flared. He held himself back. Just barely.

Vaati stepped back, keenly aware of the discomfort his proximity caused. “Such a mark is carried by the Queen of Hyrule herself. On the back of her left hand… far, far more pronounced, but there all the same…” His voice grew hushed. Both eyebrows were arched by now, and he tapped at his upper lip in thought. “Simply divine…” He paused, then added excitedly: “Do you possess one as well, Ganondorf?”

The unexpectedness of the question cut through the veil of blind anger. Ganon blinked. With a gruff grunt, he lifted his arm to check. “Nothing. _Why_?”

Vaati’s face fell, only to rebound into awe once more. “Just a thought, just a thought… humour me, even if my words may be suspect. Have you ever heard tell of the tale of the Triforce? Either of you?”

Link reflected on it. He shook his head. Just another meaningless word, though oddly enough, it didn’t feel like an entirely foreign term. Had they mentioned it once before? Ganon replied with a low growl, and presumedly a shake of the head.

Vaati covered his mouth and let out a quiet gasp, yet his expression sat unchanged. “Then I have quite the honour on my hands. Please, Ganondorf. I implore you to lower your weapon. It is a story that might lend credence to the reality of my intentions. I mean no harm.” To prove his point, he pulled himself fully to the ground, sandals touching the grass for the first time since their meeting. The haunting breeze grew still, and with the wave of his hand, beckoned his familiar to leave him be for the moment.

Reluctantly, with Link’s blessing, Ganon complied.

“Come… let us sit.” Vaati folded his legs beneath him, and waited patiently for them to do the same. Only when the three of them were settled did Vaati take a small breath. Lips stretched into his hunter's smile. “And let us begin with the story of the Goddesses that everyone knows…”


	13. Chapter 13

By the end of it all, neither Link nor Ganon were any less bewildered than when Vaati started his tale. Link absent-mindedly stroked the budding mark on his hand. _The Triforce_. He tried to taste the word mentally, roll it around on his tongue to gain an understanding. A power represented by the very symbol on his hand, and by the trifecta of triangles cradled by a winged bird on the Royal Family’s insignia. Power left behind by the Goddesses themselves. A symbol of divine choosing.

It made sense to a degree. His hand housed the triangles— _the Triforce—_ and not the entirety of the design on Vaati’s brooch. That was not to say his heart had returned to a normal, rhythmic beat, or made Ganon any less tense. The two of them sat close, the Gerudo hovering half in front of him as though he could truly stop Vaati if he wanted to.

Which, in turn, compelled him to lend credence to the story. A man like Vaati had no need for games. He stood two thirds Ganon’s height and lacked any form of muscle, but his magics were a strength unlike any other. If Vaati wanted to sell them out, he could do it forcefully without breaking a sweat.

“Why?” Link murmured, having finally found his words. Why did _he_ house the holy sign? He was a Hylian— the Goddess’ chosen people— that much he knew. Religious scholars fawned over him almost as much as the gawkers tugged at his ears or studied his finely sculpted facial features. But other Hylians existed. And from what he remembered of his parents, those he grew up with, their hands were clean.

“You and I linger on the same question, Link. As I said before… it’s a curious discovery.” Vaati could not pull himself away from the sight of Link’s hand, even when covered. “I am beginning to think it was by the design of the Goddesses that you chose to travel to Hyrule Castle at my side. Our beloved Queen will no doubt have answers… her knowledge is vast, her connection to the heavens pure and untainted…” He paused from his babbling. “That is, if you wish to continue travelling with me. If you no longer trust my intentions, I would not be offended if you chose to part ways…”

Choice. That had to mean something. And oddly enough, that statement alone soothed Link’s weary soul more than the long winded story of gods, creation, and holy power. The Gorman Brothers never would have relinquished control. Not if they had stayed. Not ever. He leaned his shoulder into Ganon’s. “Your decision.” He said, though his heart longed for a certain answer. He believed Vaati. He believed Darunia and Darmani more. Not to mention the siren call of the expansive palace and the mysterious queen within. But he would not force Ganon into a course of action against his will. They made it this far together— the idea of splitting apart was unfathomable.

“………fine.” Ganon’s shoulders fell. The defences subsided, confident that the perceived threat was over. Fingers fidgeted on the hilt of his blade. A blade that, Link remembered, belonged to Vaati. Could Vaati take it away as easily as he had given it? Without a doubt. “We’ll come.” Then he paused. Cheeks puffed up and his eyes scrunched as though he carried a most foul substance within his mouth. An apology. “I am sorry. Shouldn’t have… jumped to conclusions.”

Link nodded in affirmation. A slow but steady guilt began to descend upon him. Vaati had been kind. Infinitely patient. An ally on the same level as the Goron. Yet his trust bowed to horror and fear in the blink of an eye.

“ _Uhuhu_. I fault you none for it,” Vaati replied. He rose— quite literally like a bubble wafting upward— and the breeze that ran constantly at his heels blew past their shoulders. He extended a pale hand, not to shake, but to help Ganon to his feet. The Gerudo would have ignored it were it not for a brief glance in Link’s direction, and the subsequent desire to repent for Link’s sake if not his own. “The two of you have not been treated well in the past, have you? No need to inform me wholly. It can’t be pleasant memories.”

“No. It wasn’t.” Ganon’s tone carried a slight edge. Link wondered if Ganon even realized it. Still, now on their feet, they stuck close to one another.

“I have only a vague idea of what those might be. If I am correct, however… then the two of you are wise to have come here. Hyrule is quite unlike our outlying neighbours. Far less… _brutish_.”

If Vaati expected a reply, he was sorely disappointed. No one spoke. Ganon stared, while Link ducked away to roll down his pants and reclaim his discarded shirt and sword. The feverish flap of approaching wings disrupted the awkward lull as best it could. Vaati’s eyeball familiar emerged from the trees and hovered around its master’s head until he hummed in thought. “I see. We should be off shortly. There are wolfos on the loose… that time of year already. How time flies…” He gave the eyeball a small stroke on the back with a curled finger. “They’re still far off. We have time to eat before they come this way to disturb our peaceful morning.”

Link shivered. He couldn’t tell if that was a jest or simply a benign comment. Either way, Vaati seemed blissfully ignorant of any potential nerves he may have struck. Ganon growled, and circled back to Link’s side. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

“Me too,” Link added.

“Then we shall dine later.” Vaati said. Unceremoniously and without looking back, he set off in a seemingly random direction. These lands were like a maze in of themselves. “Come along! We’ll make good time today.”

The entire incident of taking up arms against him slipped from Vaati’s mind, as though it had never happened. He truly was the embodiment of ‘let bygones be bygones’, at least in demeanour. Did Link know what to make of it? No, but between the sigil emblazoned on his flesh and the mythologies laid out before him in a single conversation, that was nothing new.

 

* * *

 

Incident aside, the remainder of the journey passed smoothly. With the fresh sights and calm aura that radiated from the earth, it felt like no time at all. Part of Link almost wished for more wilderness to trek through. In hindsight, there were certainly parts of Holodrum and Labrynna that bore similarities to the Hyrulean landscape, but this was the first time seeing nature’s lush green domain with fresh eyes.

Untamed grass graduated to dirt trail. Before he knew it, small abodes flanked the path, albeit with rolling fields between each one. Farms, with row upon row of half sprouted vegetables, cattle and poultry pens, along with a healthy sprinkling of labourers hard at work beneath the watchful gaze of the sun and cloudless skies. Few paid them any mind as they travelled past. Most were too far to talk, but when they passed the occasional commoner up close, Link made a subtle attempt to reach up and ensure his ears were hidden behind his hair, released from its ponytail once more to skirt his collarbones. Ganon had pulled the hood of his cloak up over his head, and while that garnered him a glance or two, they seemed more estranged by the behaviour then outright shocked by his discoloured skin. Vaati’s familiar retreated beneath his cape. Link made a game of trying to figure out where it was based on the ripples of the fabric, but gave up rather quickly.

Why fixate on a cape when, on the horizon like a sun in itself, was the bustling metropolis of the Kingdom of Hyrule? Great stone walls hid most of the smaller buildings, but above it all was Hyrule Castle. An adoring parent that kept eternal watch over the child at its feet. Fluttering banners hung on the outer walls, vibrant red with the golden sigil of the Royal Family emblazoned across it. When he laid eyes upon it, every detail becoming more prominent with each step, he felt no desire to return to the wilderness. The trees and valleys and creeks and mountains paled in comparison to the monument in front of him— at least in the heat of the moment.

As they came closer to the walls, farmhouses grew more compact and far less spacious. Armoured soldiers made themselves known, either walking along in pairs or atop powerful destriers that made the troupe horses look like mules. Those in pairs enveloped themselves in idle conversation, only to stop short whenever they came into Link’s sight. His chest tightened the first time it happened, only to relax entirely when they dipped their heads and greeted their guide with a salute. “Lord Vaati! It is our honour.”

He never replied, but he dismissed them all with the casual wave of his hand and a light smile. Yet despite the flippant gesture, not a single soldier resumed their talk while they were still in earshot. Link even glanced over his shoulder to find them staring after Vaati, lingering in place and suddenly lacking any form of mobility.

For some reason, he expected Vaati to maintain the same sort of casual brotherhood with everyone as he did the Goron of Death Mountain. An unfair expectation? Perhaps. The upper classes were a mystery to him, and royalty was another league entirely. Either way, he left the incidents unremarked, and carried on their silent procession until they passed beneath the gates and into the town proper.

So many buildings. So much movement and life, even without treading too far into its depths. He stuck closer to Ganon now, passersby growing more and more frequent to the point where they would lapse into a small stream every once in a while. From the open window of a second story, Link observed a man beating the dust from a frumpy rug. Another woman a few doors down swept the front of her home, humming a song to herself that echoed in the air, the true source a musical accompaniment that was busy playing elsewhere. A woman with two bags in her hands stumbled past them, shouting curses at someone ahead for abandoning her.

Chaos. He didn’t like it as much as he thought he would. Far rowdier and complex than what he had ever seen of other major settlements. Link reached for Ganon’s arm, and looped his own around it as a tether to reality.

Not to mention it was impossible to tell whether or not the surprised stares they garnered were aimed at them, or at Vaati, who drifted along without a care in the world. _Can you see my ears?_ Link signed, and exhaled with relief when Ganon shook his head.

It was a particular brand of hell that Link was glad to be behind the closer they came to the centre of town— to another protective barrier of stone and iron guarded by unflinching soldiers. They tensed some at their approach, but inched backwards at Vaati’s magic hand. Then, with more literal magic, he reached out for the iron gates and pushed them open with a powerful gale that blew apart Link’s curtain of hair and most certainly exposed his racial identity to the guards.

“My lord…” One protested.

Vaati twirled to face him, two fingers at rest on his cheekbone. “These two are guests of the crown. Is there an issue at hand?” He asked as though genuinely curious, but Link knew that regardless of answer, Vaati would not fail them after coming so far.

“No,” he replied, weakly. To which Vaati turned away, satisfied, and continued their descent into the heart of the town— the heart of Hyrule itself.

“As according to my duties,” Vaati said, now addressing Link and Ganon, “I am afraid I must report our success at Death Mountain and speak with those who await my return. I will see you to my personal study, and arrange for an attendant to prepare proper bedchambers in the meantime.”

“Only one will be necessary,” Ganon replied, voicing the thoughts that Link refused to speak.

“If you require only one, then you are free to use just the one. But there’s no harm in having a spare should you change your mind, hm?”

Ganon reared up to argue, but fell short when Link tugged at him. It was unnecessary and a waste of time, yes, but if Vaati wanted to give them two rooms, then that was that. He dared not offend their benefactor. Even the kindest people had the capacity to bite if pushed too far. That was a common theme among the troupe patrons over the years, and Link had no desire to see it continue here, into their free lives.

They entered through a side door into a long, expansive corridor. If it could be considered a corridor with the large empty arch windows that showcased an interior courtyard. Lined with flowerbeds, pale rainbows that stole Link’s eye the most, the courtyard was fairly small, with a tree in the middle of it all. In the shadow of that tree was a bench of wrought iron, lonely and desolate. Down further, just out of the greenery’s sight, was a set of double doors decorated with intricate carved patterns. Vaati flicked his fingers upward, and a latch clicked from the other side. He chose to push these doors open with his hands, then stepped back to invite them inside.

Within was a room packed to the brim with organized clutter. Several desks occupied both the perimeter and the middle of the study, some yielding odd contraptions while others displayed stacks of documents writ in regal hand. Reluctantly, Ganon entered, and Link followed. Vaati laughed a delicate _huhuhu._ “Make yourselves comfortable. I will make haste in getting you rightly settled. I ask only that you take care around my collection… some of those pieces are impractically delicate. Now— I take my leave.”

Grasping the door handles, Vaati pulled them shut from the other side, the eyeball emerging from his cape just before they closed entirely. They were left alone in a chamber that felt eerily quiet, aside from the methodical chirps and whirrs that came from some of the devices strewn about in various places.

“Ah!” Vaati cooed from outside. Link half anticipated him to come charging back in for one reason or another, but the doors moved none. Instead, Vaati’s voice continued, muffled by the wood. “General… your timing is impeccable, as always. In fact, I was just on my way to report my success.”

The low, gravelly tone of the ‘general’ was too difficult for him to make out. Thankfully that mattered little, as Ganon called out immediately after: 

“...Link. Come here. Take a look at this.”


	14. Chapter 14

Ganon stood in the shadow of a framed portrait, massive and baroque upon a cluttered wall. Despite the certificates, notes, and other pictures that took advantage of nearly every inch of the wall space, the portrait drowned them all out. Vaati sat in an ornate armchair. An elbow rested lazily on one of said arms, and the other hovered beneath his chin. His pale flesh took on a violet hue in the painting, startlingly bright in contrast with the deep, dark shadows. He wore a cloak that cascaded beneath the chair arm and concealed one of his shoulders, the collar inlaid with a spectrum of coloured jewels. Gold decorated him like the common man’s leather. Necklaces hung from his neck, and rings of varying complexities lined the length of his fingers to the point where Link couldn’t help but wonder how Vaati bent them at all for the pose.

It was… something, to be sure. Nothing really struck him as out of the ordinary, however. Why had Ganon called attention to this piece in particular? Link glanced over, and saw the Gerudo holding back a coy grin. His attempt was poor at best. “Can you imagine having to stare at a painting of yourself every time you came into the room?”

Ganon snorted. Link let loose a growing smile of his own. _I guess it’s kind of strange._

“It’s huge. I wouldn’t even be surprised if it were taller than him.”

Link tried to envision himself in Vaati’s place, lounging without a care in the world for hours. _Couldn’t he afford a pictographer?_

“The size of the pictograph box would be absurd, Link.” Ganon distanced himself, and suddenly pantomimed the act of peering through the lens of a box twice his own size. Link stared, brows arched, then pressed the back of his hand to his mouth to hide his muffled laughter. Ganon cackled, and the two of them peered upward at Vaati’s painted face for a second look-over before attention strayed to the endless oddities around them. 

Words were little more than gibberish to him, but as he paced around one of Vaati’s many desks, he found sketches and smaller paintings in the sea of ink script. He recognized a few on his own. A page-long diagram of a zora with their arms outstretched, and another of the castle landscape from a distance. There was also a symbol among the notes. He stared at it, craning his head to view it from different angles as he racked his brain for the source of the familiarity. Then he remembered it. It was an insignificant show like all the others, one or two years ago. Passing Gerudo paid hefty, overinflated prices to scrutinize their claims of having a ‘live male Gerudo’ on display— and on their horses, lithe brown things that behaved as prickly as their owners— he saw that very symbol etched into the saddles, inlaid with a proud silver that caught the light of the sun from where they stood.

No use in asking Ganon what it meant, however tempted he was. Ganon knew nothing of the Gerudo homelands, of his people or their culture. Maybe they could go there, Link thought to himself. They could roam the deserts and learn together what his ill green skin meant, and why the Gerudo women refused to look upon him longer than a few brief moments before turning their noses up. Or maybe there was no need to know at all. Link vowed to ask Ganon what he wanted to do once they were settled. He lifted his eyes to watch Ganon from afar, who held a bauble from another desk in his hand, flicking gently at the glass in wait for a reaction.

Whether he wanted to see the deserts or not, Ganon deserved whatever option he desired. At least Link could remember his parents. Not their faces, but he could remember learning the tongue of hands, and a brief life in blissful silence before he found himself with the troupe, desperate to learn the ways of spoken language before his ignorance was punished. Ganon knew nothing but the troupe, and the art of being a living attraction from before he could even crawl.

“Link?” Ganon said, startling him from his ponderings. He stared with the bauble still in hand, brow furrowed. “Are you just going to gawk, or are you going to come over here and see it for yourself?”

_Sorry_ , cheeks glowed a pale red as he signed and sheepishly darted to Ganon’s side. _I was looking at something behind you._

Ganon rolled his eyes. “Mhm. Whatever… now look closely. There’s a little creature inside, and I swear it knows I’m watching.” He flicked the glass again, and the troupe slipped from Link’s mind like one of the desk papers brushed aside in his wake.

 

* * *

 

“The oracle has requested to see you.”

An unknown voice spoke from behind. Link yelped, his heart skipping a beat at the unexpected presence. Ganon drew in a sharpened breath, and both turned to see that the doors to the study had been opened without their realizing, a tall, spindly figure between them. At first glance, the deep violet attire reminded him of Vaati, but this presence was quite unlike him in every other way. It was a woman, at least as tall as Ganon, with muscular arms folded across her chest. Tattoos laced around her crimson eyes, a third, inked eye upon her brow that oozed a teardrop from the bridge of her nose to her chin. Her hair, white as snow, sat upon her head in a tightly knotted bun, a few strays framing her forehead.

And where Vaati oozed charisma from every pore, this woman gave the immediate impression of a suit of armour. Cold, immobile, and daunting. Yet Ganon was unfazed. “And who might you be?”

“An attendant.”

One stared the other down, almost as though attempting to shove their eyes right down their opponent’s throat. It was Ganon who broke away first. The edge of his lip curled up, and he gave her the flippant wave of his hand. “Fine. You’re taking us, then?”

“Yes.”

Ganon set aside the bauble in his hand, clucked his tongue, and began following in slow stride. Link found himself torn— her stride was quick and Ganon clearly had no regard for that, but he neither wanted to lose her nor stray too far from Ganon’s side. He kept between them to the best of his ability. With that being the matter at hand, he paid his surroundings no real mind aside from relishing in the feel of plush carpet beneath his bare soles.

In the same unceremonious fashion she announced herself in the study, the woman stepped beneath a doorless arch and into a room with a dozen competing scents, none of which Link could place. “Oracle. These are the ones Vaati brought back from Death Mountain.” That was the introduction she offered before departing as quickly as she arrived. Link watched her go, her stride intense, bordering on a jog. She rounded the corner, and then there was nowhere to look but ahead.

This room was a strange amalgam of alchemist’s shop and study. Where Vaati’s chambers housed a number of large desks, this room took issue with bookshelves, each packed to the brim with thick, leather-bound books. He couldn’t begin to fathom their contents. Off to one side was the staple of any potion shop— a large cauldron that boiled with unknown liquid. Of course, even the most significant establishments Link had ever paid a visit to fell short to this. Where a common potion shop would have a small selection of simple brews, he found dozens upon dozens of intricate crystal vials instead. A skull leered down from the very top of a shelf packed with ingredients, some of which appeared so alien that Link wondered if they were gathered from the very ends of the earth.

Surrounded by her legacy stood the most stunning part of it all: a woman garbed in elegant black regalia, her sleeves connected behind her like a sort of elaborate shawl. Her nails, dark as her attire, jutted out from her fingers in the same claw-like manner that Miyu would indulge in for special events. He recognized the distinct sharp facial features of the Gerudo, but this woman’s skin was far from the earthy brown of her kin. No, her skin had a strange icy undertone— the sort of cold, faint blue one would expect from a corpse and not a living, breathing person.

But instead of a blank, desolate expression, she donned a sly smile and took a seat on a stool to the side of her cauldron. “I’ve anticipated your coming for a while. To see you in the flesh is… underwhelming.”

“And?” Ganon growled. Golden eyes challenged the oracle’s gaze just as it had challenged the other woman, but this time it was the oracle who broke first.

“Was that rude? I apologize. I don’t keep company often… too much else to be doing.” A pause. She gestured with a hooked finger for Link, who hesitated before complying. “You… you’re _Link?_ And you’re… _Ganondorf._ Vaati spoke fondly of you _._ ” When he came into range, the oracle lashed out and took hold of his wrist, dragging him closer to observe the back of his marked hand. He tensed up. “Hm. Disappointing. I’m surprised you noticed it at all given how faint it is.”

“Then _release_ him if you’re that let down.” Ganon said, lips jutted into a newborn scowl. He rolled forward, a black storm, and attempted to swat her icy wrists aside. The oracle’s hands snapped back into her lap to avoid the strike. She made a guttural noise, a cross between annoyance and disgust.

“You have poor manners. I merely desired to see the crest with my own eyes.”

“We don’t even know who you _are_.”

“ _Veran_. Charmed. Pleasure to make your acquaintance. Now might we move on?”

Her face was that of a snake’s; indecipherable, vaguely irritated at any given moment, thin lips hidden beneath overdrawn lipstick pursed together in a fine line. He half expected a forked tongue to emerge with an accompanying hiss.

“You can see the future?” Link asked, a question clearly misaligned with the conversation at hand. Veran and Ganon glanced toward him, their stand-off put on hold.

“Are you—” Whatever dry words she meant to spew next were smothered by the wet of her tongue and the shake of her head. “ _Yes._ That is the primary duty of an oracle. Why do you ask.”

It seemed so miraculous. Almost unbelievable. “How?” His curiosity poured forth from a bottle kept tightly sealed until this very moment. For some reason, despite mentions of an oracle here and there, it never struck him how such a thing was even possible. Most magics— even the ones that flowed naturally from Vaati’s fingertips— could be imitated in some form or another. Potions, illusions, trickery. But premonitions… _true ones_ that led Vaati to Death Mountain in the first place during a time of need…

She gave Ganon a narrow-eyed glare, as though to confirm with him that the question of his peer was genuine. “By divine favour of the Goddess,” she replied. Her tone implied an obviousness that made the tips of Link’s pointed ears grow warm. “Anything else, or may I _continue_?”

Link shrunk back, and Ganon promptly bristled. “I don’t know why you wanted to see us so badly if conversation is an inconvenience to you.”

“My ears are attuned to the heavens themselves. Most other conversation _is_ an inconvenience. But that is beside the point.” Veran rose, her eyes affixed upward to Ganon’s face. The length of her finery dragged behind her, slow step taking her in a tight circle around them. “The Goddess has spoken to me. I know the future that awaits you. I thought I would be kind enough to pass along the message.”

“Then get on with it.” Ganon’s head moved none, but golden eyes trailed her as best they could. Link, on the other hand, pressed his back to Ganon’s side and followed her with most of his body. She was a snake, and now a strange sort of vulture with feathers of night and predator’s eyes. He hated the conflicting smell of the room, and the way she seemed to see right through them.

Veran paused right in front of Ganon, far too close for either of their comfort. The bridge of his nose wrinkled and his lips dropped into a scowl. It deterred her none. Corpse hands cradled his face, and Link felt Ganon’s muscles tense. Veran whispered, every word rapid but sharp: “You are in danger, Gerudo. I have seen you fleeing. I don’t know when or where. But your life is at stake. The Goddess implores you to keep an iron guard.”

He waited a heartbeat to ensure she was truly finished, then yanked himself free of her, shrugging her off with a powerful arm. “Fine,” he said, oozing repulsion. “Tell your Goddess I appreciate her _insight_.”

Already, Link’s mind raced. Danger? Of what kind? Would the Gorman Brothers find them here? What other possible threat to them personally would be able to reach them in the middle of such a large settlement? In a guarded castle, at that? He shifted in spot and settled a hand on his sheathed sword. Yet Ganon showed no fear. Not even in a subtle way, the ways Link was keenly attuned to.

“Gladly,” Veran replied. Short, but certainly not sweet.

“Will that be all?”

“I suppose.” She side-eyed Link’s hand, then moved to sit back on her stool. Beneath the tumbling veil of her gown, legs shifted to cross over one another, and her clawed hands came to rest atop her knee. “That _is_ all the awareness the Goddess chose to give me over the situation.”

“Then we’re done here,” Ganon concluded. He pressed a firm hand against Link’s back, steered him toward the door, and without giving him the opportunity to steal one last glance at Veran, continued to guide him down the corridor.

_I… wait, Ganon. Are we really just… walking away?_

“You heard her. She had nothing else to say.”

He couldn’t help himself. Link tore from Ganon’s hand, but just long enough to look over his shoulder, and without slowing down. _Do you think she’ll come after us?_

“Why? We’re guests here. _Vaati’s_ guests. Not her’s.”

_Doesn’t she remind you of Miyu?_

“…what?” Ganon’s face slid into a sudden glower, reminded of the woman who once meant so much, but now was a mere demon of the past. “A little, I guess. At least this ‘oracle’ is _honest_ about her thoughts.”

He had a point. Despite her lack of boundaries and sour attitude, at least it wasn’t glazed with sickeningly sweet and notably shallow words. Then came the next question. _Do you have any idea where you’re going?_

“No.”

_Aren’t you worried about what she told you?_

“No,” he said again, and weaved past a chambermaid who seemed confused by their presence. “It will take far more than an oracle’s babbling to make me live my life in fear again. If anything is truly after me… then they’re welcome to try.”

_Don’t say that. That’s inviting trouble to come our way._

Ganon smirked. He gave Link a small nudge on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, little Hylian. I’ll protect you.”

_Focus on protecting yourself, first._ Link pouted. It felt as though he was taking the prophecy more seriously than Ganon himself, and it hadn’t even been directed towards him. A feeling that was all but confirmed when Ganon chortled in response.

The Goddess implored him to keep an iron guard, and if Ganon refused that command, then Link had no choice but to take up a shield on his behalf. Link leaned into the Gerudo’s shoulder, and the two of them continued through the maze of luxury in their own seperate hazes.


	15. Chapter 15

At the end of their wanderings, they found themselves in a courtyard similar to the one near Vaati’s study. Closed in and filled with sweet-scented flowers, each row meticulously arranged. The sole reason how Link could tell it apart from the other one was the lack of a large tree and bench. Instead, this courtyard harboured a series of shrubs cut into simple shapes. Link sat in a squat beside one of the flowerbeds, hands on his knees. A honeybee, small and delicate and fluffy, made his rounds beneath Link’s curious eye.

Ganon’s interest laid elsewhere. While Link admired the bugs and flowers, he preferred a walk around the perimeter, and examined engravings on the stone walls. “You would almost think this place was a church, with all these symbols everywhere.” 

When Link craned his head to see for himself, he noted the women carved into the middle of the north, east and west walls. Cradled in the palms of their hands were the divine symbols of the three Goddesses, crafted in a way that seemed to shine forth from their fingers. Each came encased with an inscription which Link couldn’t read, but even the illiterate could recognize the Goddesses’ sigils. The religious carried them on amulets and coins for protection. One could easily tell which Goddess a chapel subscribed to by the sigils outside, often carved into the doors or writ on stained glass.

Unlike their common counterparts, however, Link also took note of another symbol— the _Triforce_ — between their brows. For the first time, he felt gracious that the Triforce appeared on the back of his hand, and not on his face.

“Vaati said you should speak with the queen about that _thing_ , didn’t he?” Ganon, unaware that they were both on the same train of thought, stood on his toes to tap the woman’s face.

_Do you really think we’ll be able to?_ The idea of meeting royalty was unfathomable. At least without a script on hand. He imagined his mouth locked up in the midst of conversation, and shivered.

“Hmph. Vaati hasn’t failed to deliver on his word yet. Though I can only imagine how obnoxious this woman will be…”

A new voice intervened. “Actually, she is quite pleasant company.”

Seated within the open arch that separated grass from corridor was a face that, on first glance, appeared to belong to the tattooed attendant from earlier. She too had a head of white hair, though her’s was beginning to grey. Her face was also tattooed, but to a lesser degree. A long teardrop fell permanently from both eyes, and a streak of ink connected her lower lip to her chin.

“Who invited you to join the conversation?” Ganon replied. Each snide word oozed irritation.

She smiled. Not like the oracle or Vaati; just a simple, genuine smile. “I invited myself. I couldn’t resist.”

“…she’s pleasant?” Link at least felt intrigued by her knowledge, and while surprised, didn’t resent the intrusion.

“Yes. The queen is well-mannered and polite. She has been raised her entire life with those values in mind. Don’t let the others you’ve met sully the reputation of everyone within the castle.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in. Ganon scowled. “How do _you_ know who we’ve met?”

“My apprentice has been keeping an eye on you. I doubt she gave you her name. She too is a Sheikah— the tall one.” The woman hung her head, closed her eyes, and breathed a quiet laugh to herself. “Her name is Mesa. She is young… and feels a need to overcompensate. My name is Impa, and I am far too old to be unnecessarily playing the intimidation game.”

“You’ve got better manners than them. That’s for sure.” Ganon crossed his arms over his chest. He leaned back against the wall.

“Then I hope you’ll at least forgive me for cutting in.” Without waiting for an answer, she continued. “The queen has been made aware of your presence. But she has a kingdom on her shoulders, and will be occupied until late this evening. Vaati has other matters to tend to, so I chose to come here myself. Surely the two of you don’t want to be wandering the halls for the better part of the day. If you would like, I can accompany the two of you into Castle Town to sightsee ‘til the queen is free from her duties.”

Ganon was expecting Link’s gaze, and gave a reluctant nod. But that hardened face masked excitement— Link could tell with ease. Eagerly— perhaps a little _too_ eager— Link went to where Impa sat and vaulted over the stone windowsill beside her.

“So you have never set foot in the land of Hyrule ’til recently?” Impa asked, face lacking in surprise. She knew the answer already, second-handed, but nonetheless waited for a shake of the head to confirm. Her smile returned.

“Then you’re in for a treat.”

 

* * *

 

Honestly, he wasn’t convinced. The quiet stillness of the castle was far more comforting than the bustle of a living city. Late afternoon combined with the presence of many bodies made for a warm atmosphere. At least the breeze kept him from overheating. That, and Impa caught fewer eyes than Vaati, though Ganon’s hood continued to make him a sight for sore eyes.

Impa sensed something— whether that was his internal conflict or another issue entirely, Link wasn’t certain. Red eyes slid in his direction every so often, to which he would look away and pretend to ogle a street sign or storefront. “This is the shopping district,” she said at last, “If there’s a place you want to see, say the word.”

“…shops?” Link’s brow furrowed.

“Yes. Is there a problem?”

“They’ll let us in there?” He asked, bewildered at the idea of simply entering an establishment on a whim. His gait slowed to a halt, and he turned to face a lattice window, panes open. Within the building he could see jars and bottles, but none of them gave the impression of an alchemist’s store. In fact, two ladies were within, both fawning over a young man while one combed his hair.

“See for yourself,” Impa replied, and waved a hand in the direction of the door. Link hesitated. He searched her eyes for potential trickery, but before he came to his own conclusion, Ganon opened the door and stepped inside. Link skittered at his heels. A delicate overhead chime announced their arrival. Several heads turned to greet them, including one he hadn’t been able to see from the window.

The new face, a young man who had been clearly busy stocking the shelves, shot them a smile. “Good afternoon to ya! How can I help you?”

Ganon had been bold coming in, but now he too stood awkward and idle, uncertain of what to make of the clerk’s friendliness. Impa, from the doorway, supported the man’s demeanour with quiet questioning. “Is there anything you want? Oils? Perfumes? A trim?”

“Trim?” Ganon echoed. His hand crept toward his hair, grown out since their departure from the troupe but nonetheless choppy and ragged. The end result of endless haphazard grooming sessions, frustration, and the vicious rebelliousness denoted more permanently in the scars on his body.

“We can do that,” the clerk said, setting aside an armful of restock. Link felt oddly estranged from reality. They were not shadows in the corner of the room, stuck behind the imposing figures of the Gorman Brothers and their cohorts. They were the light, warm and visible, and it almost chilled him. “That and a shave? Twenty rupees will suffice for you, good sir. And you? Would you like a cut too?”

Ganon nudged him. The question was aimed at him, and like Ganon, Link’s own hands rose to grasp at the frayed ends of his overgrown head of hair. No thought necessary, he shook his head. They hid it well, but he was starting to pick up on the smaller signs. One of the women in the back watched Ganon with a worried glint in her eye. The other examined his body from afar, off-put by the green of his flesh. The clerk’s emotional disguise was near foolproof, but he clutched his hands together in front of his abdomen, fingers squeezed tight around his palms. His smile was suspiciously wide, to boot.

Impa leaned forward. “I will pay, if that is your reservation.”

Again, Link shook his head. Ganon took his cue to join the clerk near the two women at the back. They began to converse, but Link found little interest in the casual discussion of how much he wanted taken off. The shop suddenly felt constrained. Rigid gait took him to the window, to bask in what little sunlight came through the glass. The world outside was starting to grind to a halt, orange light of dusk alerting the people of Castle Town to the day’s end.

He would only be able to breathe again when they were finally shown to their bedroom, it seemed, and he couldn’t wait for the time to come.

 

* * *

 

The castle was now his double edged sword. Compared to the town itself, it had proven to be a heavenly refuge in the middle of the storm. Corridors felt eerily serene in the blue darkness of nightfall, with wall-mounted braziers casting off the glow of scentless embers every time they passed beneath one. However, the time had come for their meeting with the queen, and imagination raced to dream up what awaited them in the spire-top sitting room. Halls became stair, and stair yielded to a single reinforced door that looked to weigh as much as the three of them combined.

Impa rapped on the back of it with her knuckle, waited a heartbeat, then pushed it open with ease. Link first felt relief, then dread. Vaati sat with one leg crossed over the other, buoyant in the air like he had been in the meeting with Darunia and Darmani. He looked up from his nails and met Link’s gaze. Terracotta eyes grounded him in reality. Then he noticed the woman seated to Vaati’s left, closer to the centre of the room. Hands folded in her lap, the cold blue of her eyes against rosy cheekbones and high-bridged nose.

“Good evening.” Her voice resembled her eyes. Cool and distant, as though a vast body of water separated them rather than a few paces of plush carpet. “Be seated if you wish it.”

Impa closed the door behind them and leaned back against the wall beside. Three empty armchairs circled around a low table in the middle of the spire. A chandelier hung overhead, Link realized, but the candles stood unlit and unsullied. Instead the light came from two candelabras established on opposite ends of the room. The woman sat in the crux between them, the light brushing her sides but face ultimately dominated by shadow.

Ganon settled himself in the armchair closest to Vaati. Link took the adjacent seat. All spaced evenly from one another, but Link felt uneasy nonetheless. The woman, adorned with a tiara of delicate make, peered evenly at Hylian and Gerudo.

“You…” She said to Ganon, “Are Ganondorf… and you are Link. I am Zelda. Queen of this fair land of Hyrule. The two of you hail from the neighbouring land of Holodrum… is this correct?”

“No,” Link murmured. Words came to him with surprising ease. Ganon had done so much… it was only fair he speak. Even if words failed, Ganon would be there for him. He paused, long enough that Ganon inhaled a breath to continue on his behalf, but Link was not finished. “Labrynna, too.” Another pause. The arch of her brows prompted him to elaborate. “We travel. We don’t stay in one place.”

“I see. And you were treated poorly?”

Vaati’s tales travelled far throughout the castle in a single night. He wondered what exactly had been said. Either way, Link fidgeted. Palms wandered aimlessly across his lap. Then he nodded, a blink-or-you’ll-miss-it gesture. Fortunately— or unfortunately, Link had yet to decide— Zelda was attentive.

“These are the workings of the Golden Goddesses. Of that, I am near certain. I wish to confirm but one thing with my own eyes.” She stood. The fabric of her gown unravelled with the motion. Fragile lace intertwined with embroidery, with the sheen of silk. Gloved hands kept watch over her hem. She rounded the table, stopping in front of Link. His eyes widened when she lowered herself to one knee, upturned hand extended in offer. “Might I see your hand, Link?”

The queen of Hyrule crouched in front of him. The surreality of it all grew to a crescendo. In a haze, Link placed his hand upon her’s, every muscle pulled taut in a bubbling mixture of uncertainty and anxiety. Her touch was feather-light, and she made no motion to tighten her hold. Discoloured patches of skin… yes, they were uncannily uniform, but to capture the interest of an oracle, and now a queen…

Zelda held up her opposite hand. It was faint, at first. Then the glow cut through her glove, and the golden light of the Triforce shone upon them. Link’s crest, reserved like its owner, held back before it too responded to the queen’s call. Dim in comparison, but a twin to Zelda’s mark in every other way.

“So it _is_ genuine…” Vaati said, hushed in awe. He drew closer, peering over Ganon’s shoulder with his fingertips at rest on his lower lip. The candles flickered. Something surged within Link. A sudden strength, the energy to best a dozen men that passed as quickly as it came. Zelda enclasped his hand with her own, and when she pulled away, their twin Triforces settled, returning to the dull discolouration Link was barely used to.

“Thank you.” Zelda inhaled. She shifted her attention to Ganon. “Your hands are bare?” More information passed to her through Vaati’s mouth, judging by the way she briefly glanced to him.

He held both of them up, normal but scarred hands in every sense of the word, blatantly displeased. “Twice now I’ve been asked that. Why would I have one?”

Vaati usurped Zelda’s place in the conversation without missing a beat. “Forgive us for the repeated assumption. It’s just that those chosen by the Triforce tend to be drawn together. Isn’t that right, your majesty?”

“Yes.” She didn’t return to her seat. Zelda strayed to the perimeter of the room instead, hands clasped behind her.

“What does it mean?” Link realized too late that she seemed to be gearing up to say something else. Her lips, parted just enough to bare the tips of her teeth, pressed shut.

“That… has yet to be seen. The oracle did not foretell your coming… and the precise intent of the Goddesses is unclear to me in this moment. I must reflect on this. All I am able to say with certainty is that you have been brought to us for a reason. I fear what that reason may be…”

“Why?” Link’s voice dropped back to a murmur. He shrank a little in his seat.

“There has not been an event like this since… even I cannot recall the date recorded in the annals. The mark of the Triforce has been witnessed in the Royal Family bloodline, and nowhere else. I…” She trailed off. Zelda closed her eyes. “Would you be willing to stay as guests until I have had time to consult with the records?”

Link exchanged glances with Ganon, and with it, came to a conclusion. “We have nowhere else to go.”

“Regardless… I am grateful. The amenities of the castle will be open to you in the meantime.” She gravitated toward the closest chair and sat, a sudden exhaustion in her sunken frown. “Have you any other questions?”

“No,” Ganon said.

“No.” Link agreed. He had plenty, but none came to him. Whether they retreated at the sight of the haggard expression slipping past Zelda’s porcelain mask or were simply too overwhelmed by it all was not entirely clear.

“Impa,” Zelda said, lifting her chin to peer past the two of them, “Could you escort them to the west wing…? Vaati has since arranged for the guest quarters to be cleared and prepped in anticipation for their arrival…”

“Of course, your majesty.” Impa bowed her head. The door opened with an obnoxious creak. It was their time to go, but his body felt heavy in the chair. Link forced himself toward her, Ganon at his side.

Over his shoulder, the door closed on Zelda and Vaati, neither moved from their positions. However, as Impa slipped between them to take the lead, his ear twitched, and he caught private words from within the room.

“…did I handle it well, Vaati?”

“As best you could given the circumstances, your majesty.”

Another vague statement to compliment an already vague predicament. Link sighed, looped his arm through Ganon’s, and leaned his head against the broad of Ganon’s bicep. At the very least, he would soon have the long-coveted privacy of a room all to themselves. That was his only solace as they navigated the downward spiral of the tower’s stone steps.


	16. Chapter 16

“ _Uhuhu_. It’s a horse, Link. Not a demon. She won’t hurt you.”

Though his trust in Vaati was highly placed, Link simply couldn’t get around the creature’s beady eyes and deformed snout. It was an alien in an otherwise picturesque garden, out of place and blatantly invasive to his peaceful afternoon. Why had he taken Vaati up on his offer? Why didn’t he simply shake his head and continue on his merry way instead of agreeing to learn to ride?

He couldn’t remember his own answers now. Link grimaced and edged closer to the stirrups. Vaati, with one hand against the beast’s chestnut snout and another holding the reins from the ground, watched with a bemused smile. Several paces away, Ganon sat atop his own monster, tense but otherwise stagnant as he waited for Link to mount up.

With a stiff inhale, Link settled an awkward foot into one of the stirrups, clutched the saddle, and attempted to haul himself onto the creature’s back. “Would you like me to—” Vaati began to offer. Link shook his head. No, this was something he wanted to do himself. Third time was the charm. He likely gave off the impression of a writhing worm, but he did it, and swayed uneasily on his living, breathing throne.

The horse whinnied. Link jolted, and Vaati promptly giggled. “Here you are,” he said, handing off the reins, “Do you remember my instructions?”

Hands at hip level. Don’t pull too hard on the reins. Back straight, eyes ahead, feet settled properly in the stirrups. He ran through everything like clockwork in his mind. Anything that would anger the creature or put him at risk needed to be avoided at all costs— though that wasn’t part of Vaati’s lessons, merely his own addition to the rigamarole.

“No need to look so nervous, Link.” Vaati stroked the horse’s muzzle. The fact that he cared little about the horse’s hot breath of standing so near to its hooves made Link envious. “As I said, the horses of Hyrule Castle are the most well-trained steeds in all the land of Hyrule. She knows the path. As long as you stay upright and treat her with respect, you’ll be fine.”

Vaati pulled away to mount his own horse. A lithe black one with eyes that differed from all the rest. That one seemed more aware of its surroundings than the others. Link could have also sworn that it was monitoring him behind his back, but maybe that was simply the paranoia talking. In a move that almost felt like cheating, Vaati drifted up into the air. He settled on his saddle with both legs crossed over one side. Despite this, he swayed none and had the appearance of perfect balance. Not to mention the horse started forward with no cue from its rider and halted beside Ganon as though perfectly synchronized with Vaati’s desires.

“My, Ganondorf. Have you ridden before? You have… remarkably _decent_ posture compared to Link. No offence, of course.”

“Twice. Once of my own regard, and once with an arrow pointed at the back of my head.” Ganon’s dry words beheld a smile of his own. He shifted to allow Vaati a better view of his back, then yanked up his shirt. A cluster of scarred tissue snaked up his left cheek and into the small of his back. Link shivered at the memory. Ganon unveiled it with pride. “I almost bested them the first time. I won this for my efforts.” He glanced at Link knowingly, undeterred by the frown that met his gaze.

“ _‘Them’_?” Vaati echoed. “Huhuhu. I won’t ask. Don’t worry. Let’s simply carry on, shall we?”

The outer castle courtyards were far more expansive than Link had originally suspected upon their entry. Trees and hedges and most importantly, the cobblestone path they were set to follow around the perimeter of the castle. Despite the horses, it was nice to be getting fresh air. No queens, no cryptic words being thrown about. Just two familiar faces and the wind in his hair.

Vaati took the lead, Ganon falling in place behind. Link lagged momentarily, before he forced himself to give the horse a gentle squeeze with his thighs. They jolted into sudden movement— a casual walk, but it felt far too quick already. That, and the _clop clop_ of hooves against stone was not a comforting ambience.

Instead, he listened to the conversation ahead. “Vaati.”

“Yes, Ganondorf?”

“I’m curious. How do you… gh.” Ganon’s face was obviously concealed from Link’s view, but he could perfectly imagine the furrowing of his brows and a rising intensity in his eyes. “I don’t know how to word this. How can you do… what you do?”

Vaati paused. Then his face lit up with understanding. A sudden blast of wind blew against them, a gale that made Link’s horse grumble and Link’s heart beat faster. “My magics?”

“I didn’t need the show,” Ganon growled. He smoothed back his hair, and again, Link longed for the confidence to take his hands off the reins for even a second. “But yes. _That_.”

“Some are more prone to the magical energies of this world, you see.”

“I _know that_. I meant how you’re able to do it so _well_.”

“Ohoho. Pardon me, then.” Vaati ran a hand along his steed’s mane and combed his fingers through its hair. He turned his gaze backwards, paying no mind to the path. “I’ve been honing my craft since I was but a child. I had a mentor once, but… ah, he has since unfortunately passed away. A shame, truly… is there a particular reason you asked?”

“…just curious. I would imagine nothing is a threat to you, with all you’re capable of.”

“Precisely why I am under the employ of the Royal Family of Hyrule. Sorcerers of my caliber are in high demand.” A proud smile flashed across Vaati’s face, baring his pointed canines ever so briefly. “But there is always room for improvement… always room to grow stronger.”

“What about fear? Do you even feel it, anymore?” The question caught both Vaati and Link off-guard, Vaati’s brows arching high above his mottled brown eyes. 

“Fear? Mm…” Vaati hummed. He tapped his chin with a delicate, manicured finger. “Not for myself, no. My fear lies with the people of Hyrule… few have the courage or strength to fend for themselves when times grow dire. And even my abilities cannot defend them all.” He slid an arm across his brow and tilted his head up toward the sky— a gesture Link could only call a dramatic half-fainting notion. Vaati maintained a frown even after resettling himself on the saddle.

“Interesting.” Ganon said no more. It was the sudden sort of lapse into silence where Link could easily tell he had no further desire to talk. And yet either Vaati had yet to pick up on the behaviour, or he didn’t care.

“The Gerudo have a knack for the magical arts, do they not?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Ah…? Well, now you do. I wonder if you possess the capability to channel it… Veran would be more help in that regard, given her heritage.”

“I’d prefer not to speak with her unless I must.” Ganon growled, an audible irritation rising in his tone. A sickly green cat whose ears were beginning to flatten against his head.

“She can be quite abrasive. I know _that_ all too well. Once you acknowledge that she has the social skills of a rock, however, she is excellent to consult for advice. _Most of the time._ ”

Even rocks were friendlier than Veran, Link added to himself. The people of Death Mountain were a testament to that.

“She’s had her chance.”

“I would never force you to pay her a visit, Ganondorf. Just know that she is a seer, a sorceress, and a Gerudo all in one— if you gave her time, I’m certain she would be able to draw out any magical capacities you may or may not have.”

Link’s rear was beginning to ache. Another reason he eagerly awaited the sight of the stables, which felt an eternity away. As their conversation finally breathed its last breath, he had nothing left to concentrate on but the pain and the methodical clip-clop beneath him.

“We’ve still a ways to go,” Vaati said eventually, confirming his fears. He confirmed something else, too: “I think we ought to practice a trot, hm?”

A confirmation that no matter how dreadful things became, they could always be worse. Link clenched his teeth together. Funnily enough, he found himself wishing all of a sudden that they could take their sweet time once more.

 

* * *

 

“You don’t have saddle sore, Link.”

Ganon’s voice bordered on entertained. Link scowled and turned, further examining his bare back in the floor length mirror that graced the corner of their sleeping quarters. The skin between his thighs was red and achey. Without the itch of healing burn wounds to preoccupy his mind, it felt all the worse.

_It’s not funny._ Link signed, squinting at Ganon’s reflection. The Gerudo sat on the bed, back against an exuberantly elegant headboard. A book laid in his lap— surely it had pictures, given their reading skills between the two of them were still nonexistent. At his insistence, Ganon chortled outright. _I’m serious! What if it gets worse?_

“You plan on getting back on a horse?”

_Of course not. Today was bad enough as it is. I’m surprised we made it back in one piece._ Alright. Perhaps that was an over-exaggeration, but he certainly wasn’t about to amend his statement now that it was out.

“You’re right,” Ganon conceded. He raised his hands in the air and shrugged. Then a toothy grin spread from ear to ear. “What was the bitch’s miracle cure? Oh, right. Come here and I’ll kiss it better, _sweetheart_.” The last sentence was spoken in a blatant mockery of Miyu. Link spun around.

_Ew! Don’t ever say that again. Or offer that again. Or mention them again!_ He put his hands, loose fists, on his hips. The thought of her made his stomach churn. Ganon barked with laughter. In spite of his uneasy gut, Link’s narrowed gaze relented, and he huffed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Put your pants back on and come here. I have something I want to tell you.” Link crossed his arms in protest. Ganon came down like a drifting cloud from his fit of amusement. Then, still standing off with Link’s displeased stare, added, “Please.”

Begrudgingly, Link donned his nightclothes. Fancy silk garments that almost gave him guilt to sully just for the sake of sleeping. But this castle spewed silk from every pore— silk, and every other luxury under the sun. He cast one last look at the mirror. Then, in fulfillment with the wishes of both his tired body and Ganondorf’s desires, climbed onto the bed and kneeled facing Ganon. Ganon sat up further and shifted his own body to directly face Link in turn.

“Listen,” Ganon started.

_Listening_. Link replied.

“Do you remember what I said?”

_You say lots of things._

“I mean about them.” The word ‘them’ turned sour on his tongue. Link understood, but said nothing. That changed little. Ganon said lots of things about them in particular, too. Catching onto this, Ganon continued, “If they ever come face to face with us again, they’ll be the ones regretting it. I faced an entire nest of dodongoes and emerged without a scratch. Their guards and their toys are nothing compared to that.”

Link shook his head. He pressed a hand against Ganon’s bare abdomen, and traced with a finger one of the many scars to which Ganon’s body played host. _The dodongoes didn’t leave a scratch, but the troupe did. They’re people… not mindless animals._

“Could have fooled me,” Ganon mumbled.

_And the big dodongo is different, too. You can’t just… destroy a person like you can a beast. Right?_

“Please.” Ganon’s mumble turned to a growl. “They’ve done far worse than destroy people. They play with them, Link. They’ve played with us our whole lives. Destroying them would be far better than what they rightfully deserve.”

Ganon had a point. And it wasn’t as though Link had never had fantasies of setting their caravans on fire, or shooting one of their own arrows into their backs. But that was back when such a feat was unachievable. Far beyond their means, and restricted to mere fantasy. 

_I don’t think I could do it._

“You don’t have to. I’ll gladly do it instead.”

_Do you think you really could if you had the chance?_

“Without hesitation. As long as I draw breath, you and I are safe from those worthless bastards. I promise you this, Link.”

Link didn’t reply. Instead he fell back onto his side, head nestled in a small hill of pillows. He slid a hand under his cheek and stared at Ganon. Imagined him gutting the Gorman Brothers as easily as he gutted the dodongoes. It sent a small shiver up his spine. But what if it was up to him? What if he was forced to kill a person to protect Ganon? The prophecy intruded his mind. Link squeezed his eyes shut.

“What?” Ganon asked. It paled to Link’s ruminations. Dead troupe, or dead Ganon. He walked a thin line between either side in this hypothetical situation. He had to kill, or else he would lose everything. Link clenched his jaw. Ganon said something else, but Link ignored it. In the end, maybe Ganon would be wrong. Maybe he _would_ have to kill them. Maybe Ganon would not be in a position to do it himself. Ganon’s life was in danger by a threat still unknown, a thief in the night that could reveal itself when they least expected it…

“Link.” A warm hand cradled his other cheek. Link opened his eyes to Ganon, who now laid beside him. “I promise you. Stop thinking about it. They’ve already ruined enough of our lives… now it’s _our_ turn to go where we please and do what we want. Don’t give them the satisfaction of tainting that too.”

Link dragged his gaze up from Ganon’s keaton head brand to his eyes, bright liquid gold that held a strange intensity to them. Not anger… something else Link was not used to, and couldn’t place. He exhaled, long and hard. “You’re right,” he whispered, unable to use both hands.

“I know,” Ganon replied. He waited long enough for it to appear serious, then snorted. “Go to sleep, queenslayer. If you rest well, you might have the energy to become a horseslayer, too.”

_Shut up._ That much he could sign from his current position. Ganon gave a tickled grunt. Not even a discussion about murder could deter his uplifted mood, it seemed. Link rolled his eyes. He scooted closer to Ganon, and there, pressed against his chest, fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

He dreamt of a city. One shrouded in shadow to a point where Link couldn’t distinguish anything that set it apart as a particular settlement. Bare feet wandered along without a destination in mind, eyes equally as distracted by the expanse of bottomless black above and around him. A golden light beckoned him— had it been there all along? He couldn’t remember, but now felt an urgent need to follow it. It did little to cut through the dark of night. It stood little more than a beacon, forever out of his reach.

“Boy. Get over here and do your damn job for once.”

Cordin appeared beside him. Too close for comfort, he fiddled with his moustache and smacked his lips. Link couldn’t smell the liquor on his breath, but the smack said it all. With a dull nod, he held out a hand. Cordin unhinged his jaw, and to no one’s surprise, pulled a length of iron from the back of his throat.

A branding iron, Link remarked to himself. He watched the red glow descend upon his hand. Flesh hissed and burned, yet Link didn’t recoil. It didn’t hurt. Strange— it should have hurt. Did Ganon have the same experience with his keaton? He felt better about it, all of a sudden. Even if he could still remember Ganon screaming, hunched over in the dirt. When the iron pulled away, Link expected a keaton all to himself. Three triangles greeted him instead.

It glowed like the golden beacon. Link looked up, and Cordin was gone. In his place was Ganon. Eyes intense, hair down the length of his shoulders with coiled braids flanking the sides of his face. He wore a crown of gold. A gold that burned so brightly that the golden beacon vanished along with Link’s Triforce sigil.

“I promise you,” Ganon’s jaw moved, but it was Veran’s voice that emerged. “I promise you, Link. That you will die, and I will die, and they will die, too.”

“What?” That made no sense. Was that really what Ganon had promised him not too long ago?

“You heard me, sweetheart.” The black engulfed Ganon’s heels. Link’s chest tightened. Not just Ganon— Link was sinking, too. Where were they going? Why did a sudden weight bog down his limbs? Was this the death he was promised?

Were they dying? Link wanted to speak, but found his lungs equally as constricted as all the rest. Ganon’s body was melting. It oozed with golden light that, even in all its glory, still could not expel the darkness from the land.

“Fear them,” Ganon (Veran?) said. “I fear them. They’re coming for us.”

Who? Who was coming? Link tried to drag himself up from the pit, but it was too strong. It dragged him down with increasing strength. Ganon’s arm, an amalgam of light and dark and flesh and bone, lashed out to grab for Link’s throat.

He felt his neck snap beneath the force of the blow. Link’s eyes widened. Without mercy, the darkness consumed him whole, and he woke with a start.

 

* * *

 

He woke and inhaled a hungry breath. He could still breathe. His throat was intact, the sigil on his hand was dull, and above him, he made out the outline of the canopy bed roof. Link wiped his face with a palm. Was he sweating, or were his palms already clammy? No way to tell. “Ganon?” He murmured, flipping back onto his side.

When he reached for the Gerudo’s sleeping form, he was met with nothing. The world was not normal, after all. Link sat up. He was alone in the bed, and with a sinking heart, realized he was alone in the room, too.

Ganon was gone.


	17. Chapter 17

Link’s body moved on its own. He ignored the shirt draped across the end of the bed in favour of his sword. With the sheath clenched firm in one hand, he flew out the door and into the corridor. This wasn’t the first time he basked in the pitifully dim light of the muted braziers, but tonight it felt as though the castle had grown darker just for him. Bare feet, usually so quiet, trampled the carpet in his haste.

Between the dream, the prophecy, the threat of Ganon’s demise, he could fixate on no other thought. Rationality slipped out the seams of his rattled mind. He rounded a corner and drew his blade at a sudden imposing silhouette— before he realized it was a suit of armour and nothing more. Rather than sheath the sword once more, he simply abandoned the shell where he stood and continued down his self-made labyrinth.

His throat felt dry. He wanted to cry out, call Ganon’s name and see if the goddesses would permit him to answer, but it was not to be. In the distance, he heard heavyset footsteps. Link froze in place to confirm the sound was not of his own making, then clamoured towards it. Doorways passed him by in a blur. Link turned another corner. His breath caught in his throat, and he raised his sword. Another suit of armour? He almost stopped to consider himself a fool for allowing his nerves to best him— but before he had the chance to even blink, the armour raised a colossal battle axe and drove it toward Link’s throat.

Link flung himself backward. His back collided with the wall. Ears rang with the scrape of metal against stone, and widened eyes drank in the ornate design of the weapon that pinned his neck in the curve between blade and centre shaft. His blade, a pathetic steel twig in comparison, slipped from his hand and clattered to the ground. The mere bob of his Adam’s apple pushed uncomfortably against the axe.

“And who is this, skulking about the castle like a thief in the night?” A mouth moved beneath the helmet’s visor; the sole indication that a living creature possessed the suit at all. Bronze gauntlet slid further up the grip of the axe. The armour moved closer. Each individual metal piece clinked against one another. Deafening to Hylian ears that were so close to an axe larger than his entire body.

Link said nothing. He slid a hand up beside his neck and pressed it against the edge that held him captive. His attempt to push it away was feeble at best, but he dared not jerk around too suddenly lest the armour choose to end him then and there.

“Pitiful whelp. Did you think to act against the crown with a lone blade?” The lips stretched into a smirk. Long and vicious. A boot nudged at Link’s abandoned sword, an act heard but not seen. There was nowhere to look except the helm of the suit, with ominous threefold eyes, the top sharpened into a harsh point. “You delight me, rogue. Pick up your arms. I’ll give you an _honourable_ death.”

The axe drew back. Link dove for the sword, nearly stumbling over his own bare feet in a desperate attempt to distance himself from the armour. Was this creature the reason for Ganon’s disappearance? It was a mountain among men, and held its weapon like it was made of air and not heavy metal. Link’s heart hammered in his chest. He realized then that the back of his neck was slick with sweat. The loose hairs of his ponytail stuck to his skin. Link glanced over his shoulder. Would it stop him if he ran?

But what if it had laid hands on Ganon? Link whipped his gaze back to the armour. It approached him in slow, lanky step. _Clank. Clank. Clank._ A second hand settled on the hilt of his sword, and he held it up in an attempt to ward the thing off. Link knew he wasn’t fooling anyone. With each step the creature took, Link backed away an equal distance.

“Coward!” The armour boomed. The perverse pleasure in its voice was almost tangible. Link tasted it in his saliva, thick and boggy. “Face me, as I’ve commanded you!”

What if this armour was one of the Gormans? What if he needed to kill it to spare Ganon’s life? What had it done— where _was_ Ganon in all of this? The questions reeled too quickly through his skull to fixate on any particular one. They instead drove him forward, blade poised to attempt to breach one of the gaps in the armour’s side.

A bronze gauntlet lashed at his face, and Link crashed shoulder-first into the wall. The sword again slipped from his grasp. He struggled to rise, to dart away as he had before, but the gauntlet was swift. Girthy fingers coiled around his neck and dragged him upward. Link gasped, an intense pressure on his throat. He clawed at the gauntlet, desperate to pull his own weight, alleviate the pull on his jaw and shoulders.

The mysterious face closed in. Jaws parted, and in a rumbling murmur, he said: “Know this, h—”

“General Onox! Release him at once!”

The authoritarian voice sparked the flames in the hallside braziers and cast light upon the scene. At once, the fingers sprung back. Link collapsed at the armour’s feet, gasping for breath. He shrank back against the wall, duly noting as he reached for his neck that the crest on his hand glowed quietly. Both Link and the armour turned to the voice— never in his life had he been more relieved to see Impa and Vaati at the end of the hall. He attempted toward them. In the blink of an eye and with a sudden windy draft, however, Vaati hovered at his side to help him to his feet. Impa marched forward, jaw taut and eyes aflame.

“You take issue with my enactment of justice, Impa?” The armour— General Onox? snarled indignantly. They lowered the axe to rest against the floor, but whether it was his regular stance or not, shoulders maintained their lofty height.

“That is a _guest of the crown,_ Onox.” Impa hissed back with equal displeasure. Despite the rift between their respective heights, she marched right in front of the General and weaved her arms across her chest— a firm barrier that would not be budged.

Vaati served as a living crutch. He paused, now behind Impa, scowled, and spoke as though he was facing a small, incompetent child. “We _discussed this_ , General. Is it truly that difficult to identify a Hylian man? To satiate yourself with matters of _actual importance_?”

“ _Ganon_ ,” Link wheezed to Vaati.

“I wasn’t made aware that your _guest_ would be slinking around with a weapon in tow, Vaati.”

“ _Lord_ Vaati,” he replied. Gaze flicked to Link and he added in quiet, “What about him?”

“You think that an acceptable excuse to assault an innocent man?” Impa asked.

Link replied best he could under his breath: “ _Missing_.”

Vaati blinked. General Onox and Impa continued their debate with fervour while Vaati whisked Link aside. “Is that what this is all about?” A nod prompted him to run his fingers through his discoloured bangs and shake his head. “He has been with the oracle for the better part of the evening— did he not say anything to you about this?”

The oracle? Link shook his head, uncertain whether to feel relief or continued tension. Ganon was safe, but a bloodthirsty soldier was roaming the halls? What if Ganon had been the one to run into him by accident? His head spun. Weight sank to his legs, and he slid back against the wall to sit down.

“General, be silent for a moment, please.” Vaati’s pleasantry did little to dull the sharp edge of his command. Onox made a guttural noise of disgust, but ultimately obeyed. “Impa, if you wouldn’t mind, I would have you fetch Ganon and make him aware of the situation. Do tell him that Link will be fine. I will return him to their quarters. As for _you_ , General…” He tilted his chin and narrowed his eyes. “You and I will be having a talk after all is settled.”

“As you wish, _Lord_ Vaati.” Onox sneered in spite of Impa’s pointed glare. She nodded, cast the iron general one last lingering stare, then set off past him in pursuit of her appointed task. The General stood a barrier between two twin braziers, his statuesque stillness and heavy breathing an uncomfortable combination.

“Come,” Vaati said gently to Link. He reached out for Link’s arm, and despite the weight in his bones, an upward breeze helped him to his feet. Exhausted, he fell against Vaati’s side for support. With the flick of his hand, the abandoned sword drifted toward them so that Vaati could take it in his free hand.

Link forced himself to crane his neck and peer over his shoulder. General Onox watched until they left his sight— and Link somehow suspected he continued watching long after that.

 

* * *

 

His head was a balloon, overfilled to the point where he feared it might burst. It was a headache that began not too long after he laid down in bed. Vaati swept along the room, up and down the side of the bed, with a hand pressed against his cheek in thought. Several paces in, Vaati reached into the depths of his cloak, frowned, then extended a hand in front of him and bent the light into a black hole that produced a small vial of red fluid. “Ah, yes. Good… I was uncertain whether I had another one of these on hand. Here… Link, drink up.”

No larger than the length of his finger, Link took it for himself. The top of the vial seemingly uncorked of its own volition before the cork collapsed into darkness and vanished. His neck had already begun to bruise, but to his surprise, it didn’t hurt as badly as he thought it would. The liquid was a sweet and tangy shot with a lingering aftertaste, pleasantly warm against his tongue. No sooner than when it slid down his throat, the potion took hold. The warmth spread to the back of his skull. The headache receded, and with the pain gone, Link fully relaxed against the mess of pillows. 

Vaati, pleased with his work, summoned the vial from Link’s hand and into his own. “I do apologize. The General can be such a _brute_. If we hadn’t arrived when we did…” For the first time, Link witnessed a sudden contortion of expression dawn on Vaati’s pale face. Lips tugged into a snarl, upper lip curled back just enough to bare a pointed canine at a painting on the wall. Fingers tightened around the crystal vial, and when his fist reopened, there was nothing left in his palm. “Ah… no, no. This won’t do. I won’t allow that neanderthal to provoke me…” He murmured to himself, inhaled deeply, and forced the lines of his face back into normalcy. Eyes reopened. Vaati laughed through lightly clenched teeth. “Huhu. I suppose what matters is that you’re fine now. How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Link murmured back. The adrenaline of the evening had more or less dissipated, leaving him exhausted. But exhausted was better than injured, and Ganon’s safety was assured. That was the only thing that mattered; that they were both alive and well.

“Good, good…” Vaati said. His voice trailed off and he settled a pensive finger on his temple. There was a lull, a sigh, and he began to speak once more. The first word barely left him when the doors flew open, one slamming against the wall with such force that Link could see the indent of the knob as it rebounded. Ganon rolled in, a storm followed by billowing black clouds—his cloak clasped over his full dayclothes.

“What is this? How bad are you hurt?” He boomed. Gold eyes flicked between Link and Vaati, in bold demand for an immediate answer. Impa appeared in the doorway, but remained a shadow. Link scooted to sit upright. Hands fumbled to find a grip in the sheets, to prove that he was okay and there was no need for outrage.

“The matter has been resolved, Ganondorf— I have tended to him, and the damage has been undone.” Vaati said, and Link nodded along.

“Resolved? Veran told me that this ‘Onox’ could have easily snapped his neck!”

Vaati stared, then lowered his face into his palm. “Did she, now?” Fingers kneaded at his temples. A breeze jostled the curtains by the open window. “Mm.. Ganondorf, Ganondorf… Veran is a mite of a _morbid_ woman, if you weren’t already aware. I assure you, all is well. General Onox will be appropriately disciplined.”

“Then go do what needs doing.” Ganon said as a hand came to rest on the end of the bedframe. “I want… to be _alone_. I want _us_ to be _alone_.”

“Very well. I won’t deny you that.” Vaati rubbed at his cheek, then the nape of his neck. While no longer twisted with emotion, his nose twitched with irritation in tandem with the corner of his lip, as though his mouth played marionette to a puppetmaster. In ghostly stride he made for the door, ushering Impa out by the shoulder. The doors closed behind, locking from their side with a gentle click. A kind gesture on Vaati’s part, though Link wondered who else would come barging into their quarters in the dead of night. His spine shivered.

Ganon unclasped his cloak, kicked off his sandals, then climbed over the bedframe. Link pulled his legs back to his chest to allow Ganon the freedom to crawl forward, settle on his knees in front of Link, and press his warm, sickly green hands against Link’s cheeks. “I leave for two seconds, and you somehow find yourself in trouble.” Ganon leaned forward to touch their foreheads. His voice buzzed with fury. “Nowhere is safe, Link. You can’t… _do that_.”

“I was looking for you,” Link murmured back. Cheeks tingled with shame, though he didn’t quite know why.

“I…” Ganon growled, “I was fine. More than fine, actually. I was… _preparing myself_.”

“What does that mean?” Link pulled back from Ganon’s forehead. Brows pinched together, he examined the Gerudo— searching his jagged features for sense in an otherwise senseless situation. Ganon’s hands fell from Link’s cheeks to his shoulders, then back further into his own lap.

“The oracle, Link. I was trying to see if any of her nonsense endangered _you._ The whole point of this… it was to protect you.”

_Why didn’t you tell me that’s what you were doing?_ Link frowned. His heartbeat was quick, uncomfortable— just like Ganon’s own from when they were briefly entwined. _The prophecy was about you. Can you blame me for thinking the worst?_

“I didn’t want you to be worrying about anything she said.” Ganon’s voice adopted a deeper irritation. Words were sharpened to a point that rivalled Onox’s axe.

_Well, I worried anyway! You know how much I’ve been worrying since we met her!_

“Yes, but it was foolish to go running off on your own!”

_Then just say something! Anything!_ Link said in frenzied gesture. Beneath the sheets, his toes curled into knots to match his stomach.

“I didn’t think you would wake up!” Ganon hissed.

_All we have is each other. I think about what would happen if you disappeared almost every night! And then tonight, you did disappear!_ The swell of anger so intense and so directed towards someone he did not loathe was a new sensation. It burned his throat like hot iron. _Why are you blaming me for this?_ The emotions of the evening, fear, panic, the blinding realization that this General Onox had no qualms about crushing him like a bug for a miscommunication… Link’s shoulders shook. He flipped over to press his head into his palms.

Ganon stiffened. “I’m not blaming you,” he said, yet his voice continued to burn like glowing embers. “What do you want me to say? I’m sorry? For trying to ensure that nothing happens to you?”

The burn of Ganon’s words pricked at the corners of Link’s eyes. Overwhelmed, they oozed tears that were perfectly camouflaged by his still body. Ganon grew quiet. Then Link felt him move to his own side of the bed, heard him unclasp the buttons of his shirt and fling it aside. His head hit the pillow, and Link turned to his own nightstand, back to Ganon and reddened face hidden from view.

“Good night,” Ganon muttered. Link offered no reply.


	18. Chapter 18

Given the events of the evening, it was no surprise that Link cut his restless sleep short and pulled himself out of bed when the red rays of dawn light peeped through the window. Standing felt better than tossing and turning to no avail. Quiet, as not to disturb Ganon, he clothed himself properly and followed that with an examination of his neck in the mirror. No lingering pain— not even a bruise. Whatever that potion did, he was grateful for it.

He sighed, then meandered over to the window to peer outside. The gardens were empty at this hour aside from the guards he could see chatting beside a small fountain. Strangely empty, in fact— he had always imagined castles to be impeccably well staffed, especially one of this caliber. No use dwelling on the matter; mindless daydreams were more pleasant and easier to think up. Link pulled up a stool, leaned his elbows against the windowsill, then propped his head up in his hands. Dawn gave way to early morning, and in that span of time, he watched the guards split up, patrol in a loop around the courtyard, rejoin at the fountain, then scatter when a man in more ornate armour— not Onox, thank the Goddesses— rode up on one of the castle horses. Their conversation turned fervourous, and the two soldiers on foot jogged off, out of Link’s view. 

Soon after their disappearance, the bedsheets rustled. Link glanced over his shoulder. Ganon sat up, and Link’s heart sank a little. He quickly glanced away, back to an empty garden. Ganon said nothing, rose to his feet, and began his morning routine. Link knew by sound alone each of his movements. Routine settled back into uneasy, absent-minded thought, to the point where when Ganon spoke at last, Link jerked a little in surprise.

“Let’s get breakfast.” His voice was flat— not angered, but guarded.

_Not hungry_. Link signed without looking back.

“Come with me, anyway.”

Link hesitated. What was he going to do by himself? Wordlessly, he abandoned his stool and followed in Ganon’s footsteps as they left the safety of their quarters. Back into the wilderness, where suits of armour could come to life and come frighteningly close to bloodshed. As they went, Link pulled a tie from his pocket and tied his hair back. It seemed all the more important to keep his ears on full display, contrary to the normal need for secrecy. If his Hylian features were a marker of his importance here— if they would keep him alive— then he would be willing to paint them bright and bold colours so no one would miss them.

“I’m sorry,” Ganon broke the silence. “For last night.” He slowed his pace to fall back to Link’s side. Gold eyes turned downward, not meeting Link’s gaze, but alert to his hand movements.

_Okay._ Link didn’t know what else to say. He wrung his hands together, then realized Ganon’s brows had pinched together in an attempt to decipher a meaningless gesture. So he tucked them behind his back instead.

“I would have done the same as you.” Ganon murmured. Arms came to settle over his chest. Link noted the definition of his muscle. Far superior to a body once battered by pitiful nutrition and overwork. He wondered, briefly, if he had gained any muscle himself. It was hard to judge oneself when the change was so gradual. Ganon continued with audible reluctance. “I… panicked.”

_Thank you._ Link thought for a moment, then added: _I’m sorry, too._ He wasn’t even certain why he was apologizing, but it felt necessary to ease the tight knots in his stomach.

“Don’t apologize unless you have something to apologize for,” Ganon said, abruptly stern. “We aren’t someone’s puppets anymore, Link. You and I are our own men. We don’t need to appease _anyone_.”

An apology almost escaped out of instinct alone. Instead he opted for another awkward o _kay,_ and left it at that. In silence they finished their walk to the kitchens. The staff, jovial despite the sweat on their brows and the grease on their aprons, greeted them with an offer for a decadent breakfast fit for… well, royalty. It was Link who, with a pointed stare from Ganon as encouragement, politely requested a step down from the throes of castle fare. They arrived with nothing, and left with heaping plates. The highlight of which were the cucco eggs that sat atop the pile, large and fluffy and so irresistible that Link salivated over them until they sat and consumed them at last.

A hearty meal that drew more words from Ganon. Each sentence shed a layer of sheepishness until they spoke on normal terms once again, and the knots in Link’s stomach relented for the most part. “Vaati was right,” he started, “That woman is insufferable, but… she showed me some things last night that I’m grateful for.”

_Magic?_ Link perked.

“Hmph. I wish. No… she told me about my people. _Our_ people, though she hasn’t lived among them for many years.” His voice took on a peculiar airiness that Link wasn’t entirely used to. His eyes were a little distant, and most significantly, his lips seemed possessed by the ghost of a smile that wasn’t quite strong enough to break through. “They live to the west of Hyrule, she said. In a vast desert…”

Link did not reply, but leaned forward at full attention. Ganon drummed his fingers against the wood of the table. “She said something interesting, Link. Apparently, long ago… it was the birthright of the male Gerudo to rule their people. Hah… isn’t that funny? I could’ve been a king, but instead I was born to be a walking zoo attraction.” He rolled his eyes, huffed, then abruptly ruffled Link’s hair. It caught him off guard, and he snapped his head up in an instant attempt to smooth it back out. “This could’ve been our life, Link. The luck of the draw is a funny thing, isn’t it?”

_I dunno. I think it would be weird to have so many people looking after you, don’t you?_ So many servants, from cooks to attendants to maids and soldiers. It was almost unfathomable, the idea of all of them looking to him for direction.

“Maybe. You have to admit that it’s nice, though.”

_Yeah… I wouldn’t mind having someone like Vaati at my side. But I’d rather have you if it came down to it._

“My thoughts exactly. Ah…” Ganon laughed, low and hearty. “And you would have to know how to ride a horse. I guess that makes the lifestyle far less appealing to you, doesn’t it?”

_Don’t even get me started._ Link scowled, but at the same time, had every intention of requesting another lesson from Vaati in the near future. As hostile as they were, horses were useful creatures— the very reason why they hadn’t been able to escape from the Gorman Brothers troupe for the longest time. Ganon laughed again, and Link nudged him on the shoulder. It did nothing to disparage him from his humoured mood.

Meals devoured and stomachs satiated, they began the brief odyssey to their quarters. Halfway there, however, Ganon came to a halt and tugged Link with him. They stood in the one area that Link had grown familiar with; the halls surrounding Vaati’s study and the nearby inner courtyards. He looked to Ganon curiously, who inhaled and said, “I want to see the oracle again, Link. But… if you want to come, you’re welcome to tag along. I owe that much to you, at least.”

The offer was alluring, that much was certain. Despite the predatory glint in Veran’s eyes that made Link want to recoil, the knowledge she seemed able to offer outweighed that distaste for her. Not to mention that it was the kind of knowledge that lit a bright fire behind Ganon’s pupils. He would never deny Ganon the chance to learn about his past, and in all due honesty… well, Link had every desire to learn for himself, too.

_Do you want me to come?_ For some reason, it felt like an intrusion of privacy.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I offered, didn’t I?” Ganon grabbed the fabric of his shirt near the shoulder and pulled him along in tow as he changed their course from bedroom to oracle. Link slapped at his hand.

_Okay, okay! I get it!_ Link huffed, then skittered to match his pace to Ganon’s eager stride. It wasn’t long before they stood in Veran’s doorway, who had her back to them and no urge to look despite their obvious presence. The fabric of her gown swayed along with her gestures like a black waterfall down her back. Hooked nails hovered along a shelf at eye level, settling on a little ceramic bowl. Ganon coughed to clear his throat.

“Yes,” she replied, snidely, “I know you’re there. What do you want?”

“Do you really have to ask that?” Ganon grumbled. His tone soured with remarkable speed. Inviting himself inside, he grabbed the stool by Veran’s cauldron and took a seat. Link followed behind, Ganon’s very own backside waterfall. He almost broke into a smile at the sight of such a hulking man on such a small chair, but Veran shot a pointed glare in their direction and deftly killed it.

“Make yourself at home, why don’t you.” The bridge of her corpse-coloured nose collapsed into disgusted wrinkles, but she merely shook her head and resumed her work. She pressed a finger into the bowl, collecting a small sample of some earthy-looking powder. “Three is a bit of a crowd, don’t you think, Ganondorf?”

“I don’t care. He’s every bit as interested as I am, _Veran_. You said you were willing to tell me more… so tell me. Pretend he doesn’t exist if that suits you.”

Link edged closer. He wrapped his arms around Ganon’s neck and leaned his chin against his shoulder, peering upward at the back of Veran’s head. Today her hair was done in elaborate braids, twirled around her head in a way that made it look vaguely like a crown. It would be silly on anyone else, but Veran’s overly elaborate regalia allowed her to style herself however she pleased and still be outdone by the outfit.

“You’ll have to be more specific than that. There’s plenty to say.”

Ganon groaned, subtle but guttural. “Fine. Tell me more about…” He waved his hand around in his lap, struggling to find an appropriate subject. “Tell me about their magic. That’s what I came here for in the first place.”

“Not my fault you were sidetracked last night,” she said. Ganon bristled, but she continued. “Vaati told you we’re adept with magic, didn’t he? You’ll find more witches in Gerudo Valley than the rest of the land combined. How else would you prosper in such a wretched corner of the earth?”

“You keep dancing around the matter of whether or not you can even help me with it.”

“Do I look like I have months, even years, to spend on private tutelage? This isn’t the sort of thing I can snap my fingers and make happen.” Veran paused to examine her nails. “As talented as I am, even I have my limits.”

“You couldn’t have told me this earlier?” Ganon cast a sideways glance at Link, who continued to lean against him.

“ _Besides_ ,” Veran ignored the question, “You have no idea just how wretched the process can be.”

“Elaborate.”

Being the snake that she was, Link wasn’t entirely surprised when she set the bowl aside and spun in their direction, her body language shifting from leisurely— almost lethargic— to forceful. She extended an open palm toward them. It was the cradle for the sudden birth of aflickering black flame that made Link jerk backwards and Ganon lean with him. “The world has never been gracious to our kind, Ganondorf. We are blessed with these talents, but do you know where most Gerudo discover them in the first place?”

A rhetorical question. She smiled, thin and lipless. Link could have sworn the flame grinned along with its master. “On their deathbed. Our magics are meant for survival. A _desperate_ last resort that awakens when it is most needed. Where witches are valued the most, a dozen perish during their training to yield a single victor.”

Ganon stiffened. From behind, Link couldn’t see his face, and for once, couldn’t even begin to guess what it might look like. With the click of her fingers, the flame in Veran’s hand spread, tearing a circle around them like a blaze of cursed wildfire. No heat met his skin. Quite the contrary; the air seemed to lose all warmth, as though a chill deep within his soul had sapped everything good from the room and replaced it with a vast desire to return to the dust from whence he came. The flames around him almost felt human. Like wailing figures in unfathomable suffering, reaching out for a saviour that would never come.

Behind the curtain of sorrow, Veran’s red eyes peered back, unfazed by the horrors of her own design. “Those who choose the path of a Gerudo witch meet one of two fates: an ascension into godhood, or _death_ of the most painful caliber. Surely you don’t have any desire to make such a gamble with your life.”

“Maybe I do,” Ganon replied. An audible challenge.

The flames didn’t sputter out. They evaporated more like smoke than actual fire. Frozen heart began to beat once more, and Link realized with a hungry inhale that he had been holding his breath that whole time.

Veran laughed. Fingers curled back against her palm as though they were the limbs of a dying spider. Already she was slowing down, offering them a once-over before returning to whatever task she had been up to before their intrusion. “Bold words,” she retorted. “Do you want to take a guess as to what it took for me to awaken as a witch?”

“Something horrific, no doubt.” Ganon didn’t seem entirely convinced, but Link’s grip on his shoulders grew tighter. More talk of potential death. It didn’t sit well with him, but then again, nothing about Veran was particularly easy to digest.

“Smart boy. It’s something I don’t care to repeat. So use your imagination.”

Ganon frowned. “Nothing that you’ve said scares me. I hope you know that.”

“ _That_ wasn’t my point. My point was that I won’t be responsible for your death. You’ll have to look elsewhere to be beaten to an inch of your life, I’m afraid. Even if I had any desire to be your mentor… Vaati would not take kindly to his _guests_ being in harm’s way.”

“Even if I want it?”

“Did I stutter?” Veran said, voice sharpened to a frigid point, “I don’t care whether you want it or not. I am not helping you.”

“Then at least tell me where I could go.”

_You heard her,_ Link signed, raising his hands in front of Ganon’s face to force him to listen. _It can be deadly! Why do you need this so badly…?_

“Having the option open can’t hurt,” Ganon murmured, clearly still transfixed by Veran’s knowledge.

“Oh, you’re stubborn, aren’t you. I’ll tell you on the condition that you drop the subject. Arguing further is a waste of my precious time.”

“Fine.”

“I would normally suggest the capital of the Gerudo desert. Unfortunately for you, the Gerudo don’t take kindly to men, even of their own race. No… you’ll want to approach a smaller coven. Ah…” Veran paused mid-motion to stare at her own extended hand in thought. She side-eyed Ganon, another awful smile dawning on her face. “I do know someone who might be sympathetic to your desires. Quite the powerful witch, at that…”

“Who is?” Ganon rolled his hand to prompt her further.

“Farther west than the capital is a temple devoted to the old ways of our people. A witch by the name of Twinrova oversees those holy grounds with the blessing of the queen… the _Gerudo_ queen, mind you. She is a zealous sort… and she would never deny the opportunity to look upon a man of our kind.”

“Twinrova,” Ganon repeated with a nod. Then, more hesitantly, he added, “Thank you. For not being entirely useless.”

Veran’s smile collapsed into a vicious scowl. “Ugh. Spare me the backhanded pleasantries. If you really want to thank me, you’ll get out and stop bothering me. You’re getting tiresome.”

“I’ve gotten what I wanted.” Ganon rose to his feet, turned, and looped an arm of his own around Link’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

Link decided that if there was one thing Veran excelled at, it was getting his thoughts to race. They left, but possibilities of what the witch trials might be plagued his mind for several days after.

 

* * *

 

Two weeks passed before the incident. At the very least, Ganon had dropped the subject of Gerudo magic— a fact that Link greatly appreciated. Forcing himself to ride a horse was more than enough stress without wondering whether Ganon would truly push himself to such extreme limits in pursuit of hidden power. He had his suspicions that Ganon had not forgotten about the matter, of course. That wasn’t the sort of thing that slipped easily from the mind once planted there.

A knock at the door to their quarters interrupted their conversation, a menial thing of no real importance. They exchanged looks. Link vaulted off the bed to greet whoever had come to visit them, anticipating Vaati’s familiar pale face. However it was a heavily tattooed Sheikah on the other side. Mesa, who had not spoken to them since the first time she came to fetch them from Vaati’s study.

“The Queen wishes to speak with you tomorrow evening. She’s made progress on her studies.” Her face gave no more expression than a stone statue. Impa claimed it was overcompensation on Mesa’s part, but Link preferred another explanation; that she really _was_ a statue come to life.

“Okay,” Link said with a nod. “Where—”

“Either Lady Impa or I will come to fetch you.” No nonsense, and certainly no qualms about interrupting him.

He waited a moment to see if she would further elaborate. Link nodded, unwilling to speak again only to be cut off at the pass. The two made prolonged, tense eye contact. Without further conversation, Mesa tore her gaze away and departed. It was the sort of abrupt act that left Link standing in the doorway more confused than offended.

“What?” Ganon asked, over on the bed where he couldn’t see out into the hall.

_She’s gone_ , Link replied, peering further outside their room to ensure that she truly disappeared.

“Hmph. Well, close the door and come back over here. I’m not done with my story.”

Link eagerly complied, unaware that Mesa’s announcement was only a prelude to the rapid approach of an incoming storm.

 

* * *

 

The two of them sat side-by-side in front of the window. The courtyards were eerily attractive in the blue of a late night moon despite their emptiness. It was a little odd, the complete lack of evening patrol, but it also allowed Link to focus on the smaller details. A squirrel darting out from beneath a hedge to climb a tree. The ghostly lights that illuminated the courtyard fountain after dusk as though a spirit with a lantern lurked beneath the water’s surface. Head against Ganon’s shoulder, he knew his eyes were beginning to drift shut. A wise man would take the initiative to climb into bed and rest before completely falling asleep, but he loathed the thought of breaking apart a quiet moment.

Ganon’s hand brushed through his hair. Methodical, gentle scratches encouraged his budding sleepiness all the more. _What do you think the queen will tell us tomorrow?_ Link signed— or attempted to, anyway. In a state of half consciousness, he wasn’t certain that his gestures were being made clear enough.

“That doesn’t matter right now, Link.” Ganon murmured. Was he drifting off, too?

Somehow, that was enough of a satisfactory answer to weigh down Link’s hands and quell any further need to speak. His eyes fluttered open and shut. The courtyard was a distant blur, and the world around him melted away into a warm stew. A mental blanket, cozy and comforting.

This was the closest the real world could be to a dream. Vaguely, through a growing haze, Link felt a kiss against the top of his head. His body melded with Ganon’s. He was being moved from chair to bed— that much he knew when the jostle of his body stirred him ever so slightly from his rest. He curled into Ganon, allowed himself to be carried.

It was true and complete peace; at least until the door flung open and Ganon, startled, unceremoniously dropped him the last few inches into bed. Link plopped back against the covers and scurried to prop himself up on his elbows.

“Vaati?” Ganon’s incredulous tone set the scene just before Link’s brain came into focus. He rubbed at his eyes. Indeed, Vaati hovered in the door, eyes wide with urgency. “What’s wrong?”

“Gather your belongings. Quickly.” The mage replied, hushed and terse. “Things of importance only.”

“What’s going on?” Ganon asked. Link sat fully upright, glanced between Vaati and Ganon, then stumbled to his feet and made for the wardrobe without further question. His bag sat in a heap at the base of the closet, unused since their arrival at the castle.

“You two must leave at once.” A gale of wind billowed through the window to push Ganon along. “Your window of opportunity is closing! _Gather your belongings!_ ”

Link’s mind was an incomprehensible mess. The jolt of adrenaline that worked through his body to push aside his fatigue was disorienting as it was effective. Danger— that much he could parse. There was something dangerous afoot. Vaati’s peculiar attitude made that clear. He shoved clothes into the bag, taking no time to differentiate between Ganon’s and his own.

Hands fumbled with the sheath of his blade. In any other situation, it would have been easy to clasp it around his waist. When time was of the essence, however, his fingers seemed to lose all finesse.

“Is that all?” Vaati prompted. Ganon donned his sword, and really, that was all they had to their names. Weapons and clothes. Vaati made a sweeping gesture with his arm to follow. It was hard to keep up. The wind at his heels raged with unusual speed. It chilled Link’s bare ankles.

“Vaati? Please, what’s happening?” Link dared to ask this time. “Why are we leaving?”

“The queen,” Vaati began, pausing to open a door out into the main courtyards, “It’s the queen.”

“What about her?” Ganon asked. “Vaati, you need to explain!”

The door blew shut behind them. Vaati froze in place, drew closer, and stared them both down with terracotta eyes so solemn and frenzied that Link feared they might crack. “I overheard the queen,” he said in a murmur, “She fears you, Ganondorf. Her research has led her to believe there is only one appropriate course of action.”

Fear? Why did the queen of all people _fear_ Ganon? Link shook his head in disbelief. Then his bowels froze in terror as Vaati continued.

“The queen— Ganondorf, she plans to execute you tomorrow.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to everyone who has supported the fic so far with kudos, subscriptions, and comments. I greatly appreciate it! A special shoutout to Fififire and Undyne for their continued comments. I hope you all continue to enjoy.

If Link’s heart could sink further than his chest, it would have. Their immediate reaction came in tandem; an unanimous “What?” No, he couldn’t have heard that right. The queen seemed gentle enough— but then again, who knew the two-faced nature of humanity better than Link himself? A charismatic circus leader to one person was more than capable of being a monster to the next. He pinched himself, praying to the Goddess Farore that this wasn’t real, but his luck had run out. The Green blessing was no longer with him, and instead of waking from a startling nightmare, he stood in the exact same spot, staring at the exact same pale-faced bearer of bad news.

“Is this a joke?” Ganon balked.

“No,” Vaati replied, ushering them along with a gale of wind at their backsides, “And stopping to elaborate is not an option. Come— come! We must get to the stables… I’ve had Veran go ahead and saddle my beloved horse. She will spirit you away from this place before we are discovered. She must!”

“Won’t she tell the queen?” Ganon hissed back, appalled by the apparent stupidity of the act. 

Vaati shook his head. “No— I assure you, the bond between Veran and I is far stronger than that with the queen. She will not betray us. I had little choice, Ganon…” The door to the stables had already been pushed open just enough to allow for a horse to pass through. One horse in particular, which stood at the ready just inside the stables, bridled and saddled as promised. The oracle was gone, her duties complete and presence no longer required. Vaati’s steed watched them with unwavering focus, silent and absolutely still. The sole real sign that the horse was even alive was the soft rise and fall of her underbelly.

Ganon climbed up with ease. Vaati passed him the reins. Without warning, Link lifted off from the ground, carried by an updraft, then placed on the saddle just behind Ganon in spite of his flailing. “My apologies, Link.” Vaati said, closing his fingers in on an open palm to dismiss his magics. “You’ve improved, but… there is no time to be wasted on mounting up inefficiently. Ganon… come, follow. I will take you through to an exit. Do keep up.”

Cape billowed in Vaati’s wake, he too picked up by the wind to glide out of the stables and into the courtyard. Ganon nudged the horse with his heels. They lurched to a walk, then a trot beyond the door. Link’s only instinct was to anchor himself to the horse as firmly as possible. Without the bridle, that meant latching onto Ganon’s waist as though his life depended on it.

Come to think of it, his life _did_ depend on it.

The hedge maze loomed around them like a haunted labyrinth. Disorienting in spite of all their time riding through it and watching it from the window. It was a whole new world, and it was a world that Link despised. More uncertainty. Shadows lurking behind every corner. He glanced over his shoulder, continual and always in anticipation of a pursuer. But none came, and they arrived at a smaller side gate without hassle. The more he thought about it, the more he prayed in thanks that at the very least, the castle guards were entirely absent from the courtyards. Even at the doors they were greeted by none. Vaati’s magic finger pried the elaborate locks apart. The exit opened up, but the horse refused to move despite another boot from Ganon. Vaati drifted up to their eye level.

“Listen,” he said, voice quick and hushed, “The closest border to Hyrule from here is into Gerudo territory— my steed knows the way. She will take you there. Take refuge there, keep a low profile, and when I can be assured of any changes in the queen’s plans, I will meet you.”

“How?” Link asked.

“As long as my steed is with you, I will be able to find you. Have faith in my abilities, Link. Ah… and do take this. You’ll need it.” Vaati withdrew a small pouch from his robes and passed it off to him. It was surprisingly weighty for its size, but now wasn’t the time to go poking around inside of it. 

“Thank you, Vaati.” Ganon said, gaze ahead and voice stony. He paused just as long as the situation would allow. “Really. It seems there’s a shortage of trustworthy humans wherever you go.”

“Such is the sad reality. But enough banter. You must go… take care of yourselves. Be safe.”

It was all so horribly rushed. This was not the way Link wanted to say goodbye to Vaati after their time together. He wondered if the queen would know Vaati’s involvement in their escape and shivered. ‘Will you be okay?’ The words were on the tip of his tongue, but before he could speak them, before he could drink in a final look at the man who had been so good to them, Vaati lashed out to smack the rear of the horse, and they took off at a gallop.

Once more Link latched onto Ganon, fully aware that his nails were digging into his chest. The speed they travelled at was absurd— and he feared that if he loosened his grip even a little bit, he would go flying off the back of the horse and into the night.

Hooves clattered against the cobblestone roads of the town, thundering down empty roads and toward the city limits. Link pressed his face into Ganon’s back and closed his eyes. It had to be a dream. Everything felt surreal, as though a haze kept his surroundings half shrouded. Link could feel his pulse. The drum of blood in his ears. Or was that something else? Were they being followed? He dared not look. If the castle soldiers were after them, then he didn’t want to know until they were overtaken.

Why Ganon, he wondered? It made sense, at least a little, with the Gorman Brothers. Ganon had never been the sort to sit down and take their commands. He was not their docile Hylian sheep— he was a wolf that would never stop fighting his leash for as long as he lived. But the queen and her sudden desire to take Ganon’s life? Why? He begged the Goddess Farore for an answer. Something, anything that could help him make sense of this growing puzzle.

Instead of an answer, however, she gave him a sudden jump into the air that very nearly made him throw up into the folds of Ganon’s shirt. Link jolted upright and craned his neck backward. A set of wrought iron gates closed off the exit to the city, and yet they were behind them. Now the horse’s hooves pounded against a dirt trail, carrying them farther from their momentary paradise and deeper into the Hyrulean wilderness.

The silhouette of the castle’s tallest spires leered down at them from a throne of black clouds. No moonlight reached the ground, smothered by a starless blanket. It was the birth of a budding storm— one that would begin long after they left the area, but a harsh change of weather nonetheless. He wondered if that too was the queen’s doing.

Then he pressed himself against Ganon once more and closed his eyes. No. The people of Hyrule might bend knee to the queen, but the skies submitted themselves to no one. It was just an unfortunate coincidence and a befitting scene for a horrific turn of events. Link only hoped that their former streak of luck was not becoming a streak of misfortune.

 

* * *

 

They dared not stop. Night turned to dawn, dawn to day, and yet their horse continued to run tirelessly, no change in breath or pace. It was more automaton than living creature, and while that may have frightened him in any other instance, there were far worse things to dwell upon. Every once in a while they passed travellers on the roads, and even in the woods when the horse veered off trail to Link’s dismay. While it evaded trees and trampled over the brush, it made no effort to steer clear of the smaller low-hanging branches. Ganon startled every once in a while— he was the one who took the brunt of their force, but said nothing in spite of the tiny gashes that were becoming apparent on his arms. There was no steering it manually. Link observed Ganon’s futile attempts, violent tugs on the reins that bore no fruit. 

His body felt heavy, but his mind denied him any possibility of rest. The saddle ached beneath his thighs and the adrenaline, while sparse, continued to jolt through him every time he recalled that the queen could be actively searching them out. Surely the castle had to know of their escape by now. Every stranger, regardless of how benign their appearance, felt like a demon in disguise.

The world was a blur. Vaati’s horse be on the path to nowhere and Link wouldn’t know the difference. No landmarks stood out beyond the surrounding woods, but when they finally came out the other side, Link eyed a small town on the evening horizon. A town that the horse seemed intent on charging.

“Ganon!” He barked into the other’s ear, “Make it go somewhere else!” Civilization was not their friend. It no longer deserved the benefit of the doubt.

“Do you think I haven’t tried?” Ganon said, tilting his head ever so slightly to project his voice behind him, “This thing has a mind of its own!” As though the prove his point, Ganon slammed his heels into the horse’s sides— rough enough to make Link flinch. At the same time he jerked the reins as far as his arms would allow him, but somehow the horse’s head resisted the pull. Nothing, to Link’s dismay.

He craned his neck to glance over Ganon’s shoulder, to get a better look at their unwelcome destination. A place well-preoccupied, judging by the plumes of fireplace smoke and moving figures that were coming closer and closer. Link inhaled and bit his lip— then promptly released it and furrowed his brow. The smoke, he realized, strangely abundant. That was his first warning. The second came with a downwind draft that billowed back in their faces. Ashen scent burned his nostrils, similar to the sort of smell that clung to the inner walls of the Goron Mines… but not quite.

“Ganon, I…” He stammered. “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

Link received a grunt in reply. The sort of grunt Ganon had a tendency to give when he didn’t want to acknowledge a situation out loud, vague and noncommittal. The horse had no intention of slowing down even when Ganon yanked stubbornly at the reins. Already they were knocking at the front door of this strange town, and by the time they were presented with a clear view of the handful of farmhouses that sat at the skirts of the settlement, the sinking feeling in Link’s gut intensified and froze.

They whipped past the fields, but it wasn’t hard to see the trampled crops, smashed windows and _blood_. Red as a sultry woman’s lips, and equally as uncomfortable and distracting. Smears through the grass, against the battered open door of the house proper.

“Link, don’t let go!” Ganon commanded, just barely enough to pry him away from the sight that was already behind them. “Don’t look!”

A grave mistake on Ganon’s part. Despite the order, Link’s gaze flew ahead, raking along a strange creature as they passed. He would have double-taked to see what it was, but the scene ahead stole any capacity for intelligent thought he had. Above the wild hammering of hooves against well-trodden dirt, a scream tore through the town. It awoke his senses to the rest of the audible chaos. Snarling and squealing and bashing. 

The horse plowed into something, but she was an impenetrable wall that threw it forward and trampled it underfoot. She stopped for nothing. Not even the screaming man who cried at them from above. Link glanced back. He flailed his arms from an open window on the second story of a house fortunate enough to be made of stone, and while Link couldn’t parse his words, the man’s cracking tone was more than enough to get the message across.

“Ganon!” Link yelled, “There’s people here!”

“Not our problem!” Ganon yelled back— voice strained from the landscape of death around them.

“They’ll die!” The man disappeared from the window. Link finally got a decent glimpse at one of the things in the streets. Gawky and piggish, with eyes of dying embers to match their flaming apocalypse.

“The horse won’t stop!” Ganon argued back.

Where there was smoke, there was fire. And where there had been fire, there had been Gorons struggling to fend off a growing threat— a threat that would have undoubtedly ended badly for the first people who had been unconditionally kind to them if it weren’t for Vaati’s unannounced visit. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t turn his head and ride past, as much as he wanted to.

Link threw himself off the side of the horse. He covered his head with his arms in the brief moment before impact, and landed with a winding thud on his back. Body rolled helplessly off the street and against the base of a building. Ganon shrieked after him— or maybe he didn’t. Link was too preoccupied with recovering his absent breath to make sense of the world around him, and he writhed helplessly before managing to sit up. Even then, the building was his support. Everything spun around and around, a dizziness that refused to be shaken even as a lanky figure skittered towards him.

The sight of an incoming club, however, proved motivation enough to lurch to the side in spite of the pain. Stumbling to his feet with one hand braced against the wall for support, Link reached for his blade and drew it from its sheath with a sharp clatter. Vision began to come into focus, and for the first time, Link drank in the invader’s look. Piggish from a distance was grotesque up close. Bottom jaw jutted outward, with rotting teeth visible due to the extreme underbite. The creature’s snout seemed to meld with the rest of its face, constantly extruding mucus. Link’s eyes widened and he nearly tripped back onto his rear.

It squealed and dove for him. Instinctively, Link thrust the blade forward to stab at it before it could rear back the club. Unlike the dodongoes of Death Mountain, this creature’s flesh was soft, and yielded to the sword straight through the throat with no resistance. At once it dropped the club and panicked. Link kicked at the creature’s chest to push it back and reclaim his blade. It clawed desperately at his throat and made Link momentarily hyperaware of his own ragged, wheezing breaths, but there was no time to admire the handiwork. Link darted past it, deeper into the flaming labyrinth. Toward the stone house which was too far to see beyond the grey veil, and toward the man who he prayed would hold out long enough for the calvary’s arrival.

Another pig creature came into sight, too preoccupied with slamming its body weight against a door to immediately notice him. Link’s gaze flittered from the road ahead to the door, then back again. Someone had to be inside if it was so desperate to break through. He changed direction, gripped the blade with both hands, and pushed it between the pig’s shoulder blades just as it was about to turn around.

He had to have hit something vital. The pig went limp, and Link shook it loose of the sword. The doorknob refused him when he tried. Without further attempt to enter, Link started back along the main road to locate the stone house. There was no point in trying to overturn a barricade, and surely it would hold longer now that the attacker had been downed.

The deeper he went, the more pigs that roamed in search of prey. Despite his lightheadedness, he found that by themselves, they were mindless enough to outwit and quickly dispatch. Like carnivorous pigs, angry and violent, but ultimately animals destined for slaughter and little else. Real danger came in twos or threes. Then it became less a duel and more a puzzle, sliding beneath the blades and blunt weapons of his target’s allies.

As he weaved under the arm of a particularly tall pig, he spotted his destination. The stone house, window abandoned, but nonetheless the same place they had been hailed from atop Vaati’s horse. The distraction was brief, but enough that he didn’t catch the incoming club and took the blow straight to the side of his head. Link reeled back and collapsed, sword clattering from his hand as he dipped out of consciousness for half a second.

A cry from the open window saved him. “Hey! You! Over here!!”

The creatures paused and turned toward the distraction. Enough time for Link to scamper back to his feet, grab his blade, and slash at the closest one. A brief glance confirmed his suspicions. The man at the window had returned, waving and flailing, but now less out of desperation, and more in an attempt to lend his limited aid. With such limited attention, their gazes slid back and forth between window and their now fallen ally, unable to decide where to devote themselves to. Indecision was their downfall. Link’s hair slid from its ponytail in tandem with his sword, slid between the ribs of the second pig. Finally, the larger pig chose to ignore the screaming man, but by then, it was only the two of them, Link and foe— and at that point, a duel was more than manageable.

Even more so when Ganon barrelled forth from the smoke, plowed straight into the creature’s chest, and slammed it back against the closest structure. “Idiot!” He howled. Ganon drew his blade, took a step back, and with unparalleled strength, drove it directly upward into the enemy’s jaw. With a twist, he watched the light fade from the beast’s eyes, then pulled back. The corpse hit the ground by his feet with a solid thud, and Ganon kicked at it. “You’re lucky they didn’t kill you!”

“Not luck,” Link gasped. Gesturing toward the window, where the mysterious man had fallen silent, he hesitated but a moment before starting towards the stone house. At Link’s approach, the man vanished from the window— vaguely, keen ears picked up on more shouting, but it wasn’t as desperate.

Ganon marched past him, blade in hand, militant stride, face creased with a dozen angry wrinkles. “You— you’re…” He threw a sour gaze over his shoulder, then raised his hand to the sky in frustration. “Agh!” Still, he knew their destination, and didn’t pause even with the shake of his head.

He attempted to shoulder the door open, but just as the house down the road refused to relent to Link, this one held fast too. Furniture shrieked against the floor on the other side of the door— a barricade? Realizing this, Ganon slammed into it harder. Once, twice, and then it finally gave with a suddenness that sent Ganon stumbling into the house. Link darted in behind him, and the door urgently slammed shut when they were both fully inside.

“Thank you… oh, thank you!” The man trembled as he spoke. He was a human of average height, hair matted with blood and shirt equally as stained. It was difficult to tell what his face really looked like beneath the bruises and soot.

“Yes,” another voice, breathier, said from beside the door. “Thank you. I… didn’t think you were going to come.”

Link turned. Lips parted in shock, and it was then, staring at a winged woman, that he realized he was looking at none other than the Gorman Troupe’s very own Cecile.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An irregular update since I've been eager to post for a very long time. My apologies for the delay. Life has been hectic lately, but I appreciate the support very much and regular updates will return very shortly.

Cecile had escaped the troupe’s clutches all on her own, and made it so far north by her lonesome? It seemed too good to be true, and on second glance, Link realized it was. The woman in front of him had a coat of feathers and a curved beak instead of a mouth, but they were not faux imitations like the costume designed to pass a human as Rito to those who had never seen the winged people of the north. If this woman stood beside Cecile, it would be painfully obvious that the latter was a fraud— her arms, for one, were an uncanny amalgam of wing and hand. One of which hung limp at her side, and Link noted the blood mottled into her fine brown plumage.

“…is something wrong?” She asked, casting her eyes downward to examine herself in a hurried once-over. “Kenta?” Voice shifted to question her partner, to which he shrugged. Link pulled himself from his stupor and shook his head.

“Never seen a Rito before,” Link said as an excuse.

“Ah… well, now you have.” She replied. “If only it hadn’t been here, of all places.” Without further hesitation, she pressed her good shoulder against the side of a wardrobe and began pushing it back over the front doors to barricade it once more. Link stared a moment, then hurried to help her. “I’m fine. I’ve got it,” the Rito protested, “Just… tell us what to do, and I’ll move it back when you’re ready.”

“You say that as though we have a plan,” Ganon murmured. Arms folded across his chest, he stood across the Rito at the other side of the door, golden eyes affixed to the human man— Kenta.

“I…” Kenta began, “I’m sorry. You didn’t have to do this, but I can’t express how much it means to us. There’s no way we’d have been able to get out of here on our own…”

“And there’s no guarantee any of us will be able to get out.” Ganon said. 

Link shot him a pointed look, then rushed to reply in hands. A private addendum to the conversation. _Don’t be angry with them. I’m the one who rushed off._

“Well, we’ll do our best to up our odds as much as possible.” The Rito woman said with the dip of her head. “I know now isn’t the best time for introductions… but I’m Othili… and as I’ve said, that’s Kenta.”

“Link,” he said in reciprocation. Knowing that Ganon was not in the mood to greet them himself, he gestured towards the Gerudo and added, “Ganondorf.”

“I’m no warrior,” Kenta added. His voice seemed thick with shame— and a flittering glance in Ganon’s direction made Link wonder if his snide comments had been responsible. “And Othili can’t use her bow with a lame wing… b-but she has a spear. And I can try to find something to use as a weapon…”

“Then look and get ready to leave. Now.” Ganon barked, in spite of Link’s words.

Kenta barely had a chance to turn around before Ganon stormed over to Link’s side, grabbed him gently by the sleeve, and tugged him over to the far corner of the room. Backing him into the wall, Ganon lowered his head so that their brows touched, and said in a hiss: “What are you thinking, Link? Who knows how many of those things are out there?!” He reached for Link’s brow, stroked it roughly with his thumb, and revealed a fingertip slick with blood. Confused, Link felt around himself, and realized that a gash had opened up across his eyebrow and temple. “This is nothing compared to what could have happened. What _could still_ happen. And now we’ve got dead weight with us!”

_They aren’t dead weight! Don’t say that._ Link shook his head in vehement disagreement. _The Rito—_ he signed, the letters of her real name too cumbersome to spell out, —c _an fight! Besides… I couldn’t leave them behind. And we don’t have time to argue!_

Ganon groaned. With the roll of his eyes, he pushed away in silent agreement, paced away, then paced back to reach into his bag, withdraw a strip of fabric of some kind, and pressed it to Link’s brow. “Keep that there as long as you can,” he commanded in low voice, before moving to hover by the barricaded door in Kenta and Othili’s absence.

On cue, the barricade shivered, and a thump on the other side confirmed that their momentary peace was over. Kenta hurried down the stairs, Othili his tall shadow, to warn them of the threat already made clear: “There’s two outside… little ones, but they’re making a clamour…”

Any chatter from the other side of the door fell on deaf ears— Link’s hyperaware senses no exception for once. All that he could make out was the sound of collapse and ruin, unable to tell whether the sweat slick to his skin was from the ungodly heat or his own personal tension. A thousand questions ran through his battered skull, and the ache in his brow made it near impossible to really think on any of them. Regrets swam hand-in-hand with a desire to know what had happened to Vaati’s steed, or whether the search for Ganon was beginning to catch up to them. What if this had been a bad decision after all? Was there a chance to get them all out of here intact? Stupid, stupid… Link clutched at the side of his head and inhaled sharply.

There wasn’t enough time to linger on those regrets. A small mercy in the grand scheme of things. “Link. Get ready.” Ganon’s bark brought him to his senses. The door jolted again, but this time, Kenta and Othili stood at the ready to finish the barricade on behalf of the enemy. Ganon pulled his blade from its sheath and backed away to Link’s side. The bloody bunch of fabric in Link’s hand slipped from his fingers, and the pain almost seemed to subside entirely as he readied his own weapon.

Othili closed her eyes for a brief second, and her beak moved in silent murmur. A prayer, if Link didn’t know any better, and he too would have sent one of his own to the green goddess for luck if she hadn’t immediately thrown her weight into wardrobe and overturned it with Kenta’s aid. The wardrobe and door sang an angry song, two thunderous drums that played a note one after the other. The furniture smashed against the floor and the doors flew open. In stormed the pair of pigs, too dim-witted to realize that their prey had been prepared to meet them. In a single, deft blow, Ganon stuck the edge of his blade into the throat of the first, and while Link’s movements were clumsier, he gutted the second before his head spun and he reeled forward himself. The pain was ebbing away, but a sudden spell of dizziness set in. He caught it in time to avoid unnecessary questions from the others, meeting Ganon’s suspicious gaze with a shake of the head. _Be careful_ , he signed, but Ganon did not answer.

The streets swirled with ash and smoke. A building that Link had passed not half an hour ago had collapsed to its foundations, but the rubble continued to burn and spread like an insatiable parasite. Pigs prowling the streets with bloodstained jaws and moist skins turned their sights to the small feast before them.

Their formation was almost instinctive. Without a word passed between them, Ganon took the lead and started forward, while Link ushered Othili and Kenta behind him and took the rear. Head whipped back and forth to keep an eye on both ends of the street as best he could, but when a rotund pig man charged, he had no choice but to abandon his over-the-shoulder glances to catch the beast’s jagged club on his sword. Link’s strength was no match for the sheer weight on the other end. Thankfully a spear through the pig’s gut was enough to deter it and ward it back. Othili struggled to reclaim it with a one winged grip. With a twist it dislodged, both scampering to pull back and flee.

Whatever stood in their way was cut down with an ease that suited Ganon— he was an iron wall that denied entry to all, while Link struggled to fend off the ones quick enough to catch up to them as they ran. His lungs longed for clean air. In protest they forced shuddering coughs that made his ribs ache.

How he saw it through the grey smoke curtain that had become more or less a wall in front of his eyes was anyone’s guess. But with a squint, Link noticed a strange, deformed silhouette that was growing larger at an unsettling pace. He opened his mouth to call for Ganon, but words failed him. As he wheezed, he resorted to a tug on Othili’s tunic instead, pointing with the tip of his blade at the approaching figure.

“What—?” She said with a horrid cough of her own. “Kenta…! What is…”

She couldn’t finish her sentence. But Link’s eyes widened. He could make out a few details now. The thing coming towards them was not one creature, but two. A lithe pig man atop a heavyset steed of some kind. A portly horse? Whatever it was, it had no intention of slowing down. His mouth, barren and uncomfortably dry, could not manage a warning.

Kenta threw himself at Othili, and the two stumbled off the road. Link leapt backwards, narrowly evading the tusks of the pig’s mount. He felt the whizz of their movements against his burning skin, but there was no relief. Link spun around, locked his gaze onto Ganon, still in the middle of the road, and felt his mind go faint.

The tusk should have pierced Ganon from behind. It should have thrown his body underfoot and trampled it. But it didn’t. A gate of empty black nothing opened up between the pig rider and Ganon, and from the abyss, Vaati’s black mare barrelled forth. In silent fury she billowed through the pig like a vengeful ghost, and with no time to pull back on the reins, the gate swallowed it whole. When the gate vanished, Ganon stared back at them, frozen in place as he struggled to place the scene that had happened right under his nose.

Othili bared her spear at Vaati’s horse, but Link lowered it with his hands, shook his head, and started over to Ganon. His best way of nonverbally telling her to leave it and keep going to someone who couldn’t understand the speech of hands. The smoke ahead was less dense than the town centre. They had to be close to the outskirts. That was what mattered most.

Link placed a hand on Ganon’s shoulder and pushed him forward. It was his turn to stir Ganon from his pause. They resumed their move, but when Link glanced behind them once more, the mare was gone. Curiously enough, the smoke stood still— parting no more for enemies in pursuit.

He kept his gaze fixed on the rear for a little while longer. Then, confident the only enemies laid ahead, left Othili to watch their backs so he could join Ganon at the front. Not that he needed much assistance. As houses grew farther and farther apart, so did the pigs, who, for the most part, had long since clamoured toward the more populated areas.

They needed to keep moving forward. Link knew this very well, but in spite of it, his body was adamant in slowing down. He came to a halt at the gate of a farmhouse, clutched at the unstable wood for support, and heaved until his head spun so viciously that only Ganon’s grip kept him on his feet. _I’m sorry_ , he tried to sign, but he felt so distant from his hands that he wasn’t sure if he managed to say anything at all.

“I’ll take him,” Kenta said, voice foggy. Ganon growled something that Link couldn’t parse. Regardless, he forced himself forward with support from whoever had taken hold of him,and the rest became a blur.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, due to current circumstances, updates will continue to be posted irregularly for a longer length of time than I had initially hoped. Thank you to everyone who has left a kudos and a comment so far. The support is greatly appreciated, and I hope to continue to write something enjoyable.

By the time they took rest in the brush at the foot of the Gerudo mountains, Link’s senses had nearly returned to him. Stomach and lungs churned in displeasure of all the smoke they had been forced to take in, and the scent of the burning town was either singed into his nostrils, or blowing downwind with the chill of dusk. It made him glad, in a strange and perverse way, that the others were beginning to cough and wheeze to clear their throats, if only because that meant he wasn’t the only one who had been severely affected.

It was Ganon who chose to light a fire and hunker down for the evening— and while it put him slightly on edge, remembering once again their plight— he wasn’t about to argue. How much farther would they make it on foot like this, anyway? Link watched, his back propped up against a rock, as Ganon paced around the perimeter of their poor excuse of a camp, before he returned to sit by the fireside and warm his hands.

Kenta, on the other hand, was hard at work preparing a splint for Othili’s wing. No conversation to be had among any of them, aside from her curt instructions on how to properly tend to a Rito limb.

It left plenty of fodder for an active imagination to take root and wander. Faces of his own design faced gruesome ends at the hands of the pig brutes, and despite his best efforts to turn off the show, it played on and on— until his eyes were squeezed shut, brows pinched together in defence of an enemy that couldn’t be countered.

“Where do you hail from, that you’ve never seen my kind before?” Othili asked, ignored until she cooed his name: “Link…?”

Distraught, he turned to her. It took him a second to realize that the question had been directed at him. With a dull blink, his lips quavered with silent words before he had the strength to reply. “South of Hyrule.”

Labrynna and Holodrum didn’t seem like the correct answer anymore. Those lands were the troupe’s domains, not his. But as for where _he_ specifically came from… well, if only he knew.

“You’ve never come across even an ocean Rito?” The look in his eyes was sufficient enough for her to attempt to jog a nonexistent memory. “The ones with—“ Othili flexed the wing-digits of her good arm, “—human hands?”

Link didn’t need to deflect his gaze from her to tell that Ganon was watching them both. Those golden eyes carried a heavy weight, ever the burden for the beheld. His muscles relaxed some, and he forced himself to unclench his tightened fists. Then he shook his head, the mental image of a Rito with hands like his own too uncanny to mull over for too long.

“Fascinating…” She murmured. “They haven’t made too many trips up north for a few years now. I wonder… if they’re okay.”

“I don’t know.” Link replied, a little more curt and blunt than he intended. A mythical people he had never crossed and likely never would wasn’t exactly a dominant concern in the moment, though he instantly felt a pang of guilt for it. Othili didn’t seem fazed or even hurt at all. He was surely overthinking it.

“And what are you doing this far south? You’re mountain-folk, are you not?” Ganon said from his fireside perch, inviting all of their eyes onto himself. He spoke with such authority that Link wasn’t certain if he had learned about them from Veran or Vaati, or whether he was bluffing. Honestly, either possibilities was equally as likely.

Othili’s eyes grew sharp. “We’re allowed to travel, _are we not_? Why do you take issue with us, Ganondorf?”

“Forgive me. I only nearly _died_ for your sake.”

Link slid his feet closer to his chest and wrapped his arms around his knees. The skies were a pitiful grey. Dull and washed out. Clouds drifted by, unbothered by the goings on of the world below. He almost wished he could be one, if only to escape the tight-necked feeling that had suddenly overtaken the camp.

“We never forced you to help us.” Othili’s voice was beginning to graduate from a raspy murmur to a hiss.

“You did by getting _him_ involved.” Ganon snapped back, to which Link— _the him was he—_ put his chin on his knees and studied the grass carefully, toes curling, foliage green, nothing of note but dirt and a tension that he was directly responsible for.

“And what does that have to do with us?”

Ganon grumbled. A low _hrrrrrrg._ “You’re being ungrateful for someone who I could’ve left in the burning debris.”

“Ungrateful—?” 

He had to find something interesting about the ground to keep himself occupied, and fast. Othili’s feathers rustled as she moved to sit up properly, a sound that would be banal in any other situation, but enough to make Link’s head sink further into his lap. His stomach ached in protest. He couldn’t tell whether it was from the smoke inhalation or from the ongoing conversation.

“Of course we’re grateful…! We would have repaid you by now— if we had anything left! We barely got out by the skin of our teeth. What do you want us to do, kiss the ground you walk on?”

“It would be a start.” The roll of Ganon’s eyes was audible.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t be offended, having ‘ _dead weight’_ in your shadow?”

“Please stop.” Link interjected, voice meek in comparison to Othili and Ganon’s verbal power struggle. He forced himself to peek up over his knees again, as not to shy away from the two pointed glares thrown his way. “I told you to be mad at me. Not them. You didn’t… have to call them names.”

Othili’s scowl softened ever so slightly, only to deepen again when she looked to Ganon. “I could almost forgive it. You saved our lives, after all. But that doesn’t mean you have to be a _pompous ass_ about it. I was only trying to make conversation.”

Link knew that Ganon wanted to retort with every fibre of his being. It was plain by the way his lips hung slightly parted, baring his molars in disgust. He caught Link’s stare for a brief instant, then finally made a low growling noise, shook his head, and stood up to go for another walk around the camp perimeter.

“Othili…” Kenta said in low tone, “We really should be grateful.”

“There’s a difference between being grateful and having to like someone who clearly could care less about us.” Othili replied. She sunk back against her support with a huff.

Link couldn’t help himself. “I’m sorry.”

“You… sorry?” Othili asked, the feathers above her eyelids arched. “You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s that _man_ I can’t stand.”

“He needs someone to blame.” Link said, in quiet realization. Someone that wasn’t him. “Please don’t hate him.”

That seemed to catch Othili off-guard. She blinked, uncertain of what to say in response. “…I don’t ‘hate’ him, alright? I just… won’t tolerate being spoken down to.”

How could he argue with that? As much as he hated conflict, he couldn’t simply tell her to grin and bear Ganon’s frustration when it wasn’t rightfully aimed in the first place. So he opted to change the course of conversation instead. “We can’t stay here much longer.” He paused, then elaborated: “Ganon and me. Will you… be okay?” A vague question, but it was the best wording he could muster.

“I could ask you the same.” Othili said with a sigh. “It hasn’t been completely safe in the wild for a while now. But now the towns aren’t safe anymore, either.”

“I’ll be sleeping with one eye open for the rest of my life…” Kenta murmured under his breath.

Othili nodded. “But yes. We’ll be alright. Unless something like that happens again… in which case, I think the rest of our luck has dried up anyway.”

The three of them tapered into awkward silence. What more was there to say? This world was a dangerous one— a fact proven time and time again since their escape from the troupe. How many other settlements were there in the world, being preyed upon by monsters in the dark? Even Horon City would have a difficult time defending itself against those numbers.

Deeper and deeper his face descended into the oblivion of his ever wandering imagination— stressed wrinkles criss-crossing the bridge of his nose in particular. He willed himself to stop thinking, but for some cruel, perverse reason, it only fuelled the daydreams. That was, until a soft hum came from his left, a faint melody that was just alluring enough to get him to glance over.

Othili sang, and he listened. The Rito— _real Rito—_ had voices quite unlike anything he’d ever heard. Her throat produced the trill of a large but delicate bird, interrupted only by the taint of smoke in her lungs before she pressed onwards, determined to get through her tune either for herself, or for her listeners.

Kenta lowered himself to lie his head in her lap, careful to give her injured wing a wide berth. She continued unhindered. Link, however, diverted his gaze. It suddenly felt as though he was peeping on an intimate moment that he wasn’t permitted to bear witness to. Eyes wandered, gravitating towards his lap, and by extension, his hands.

His gut froze. The supposedly sacred mark on the back on his hand had darkened. The discolouration of his flesh was blatant in comparison to the ghost it had been before leaving the castle. Lips twisted into a grimace, and he pressed the back of his hand close to his chest. The green Goddess sneered at him from above. His direct connection to the queen of Hyrule grew stronger the farther away he tried to run, or so it seemed. A startling fantasy intruded on his mind. The queen from her spiralling perch, gazing into a crystal ball tethered to his very hand, watching his every move, commanding her troops to change direction…

Terrible, terrible! He shook his head, a repulsed shiver as though an acrid taste had made contact with his tongue.

Without Vaati’s steed, they would be moving at a snail’s pace in comparison. Link leapt to his feet and started off to find Ganon. They didn’t have the luxury of leaving soon. They needed to leave _now_.

 

* * *

 

“ _If our paths ever cross again… we will try our very best to repay you.”_

Othili’s words played over in his mind. She specifically refused to look at Ganon when she said it, but an offer that extended to one of them had to extend to both, else it was no good to Link. They had departed hours ago, but the grip of paranoia ran deep in his veins. Mulling over every word, wondering if he truly _could_ trust the two of them by words alone. He ached for Vaati, Darunia or Darmani— reliable rocks among the storm that was the rest of Hyrule. But they were far away from the dusty Gerudo mountains. So instead, Link leaned into Ganon’s arm, eyes heavy from fatigue, the back of his head still pulsing with the swing he’d taken from the pig beast.

“Look,” Ganon said, first word spoken since they had left the camp. Link’s eyes drifted from the brush that pricked at his feet to the downhill mouth of the canyon that stood firm ahead of them. There was another sign of civilization that looked intact. Plumes of smoke drifted up from the sparse collection of shelters, but they were the smoky entrails of a confined fire, and not a raging inferno. Mounted flags hung limp along the way, crimson banners lifeless in the still, dry wind.

They passed one by in awed silence. It towered overhead as though it belonged on the side of a bastion the size of Hyrule Castle, and not in the shadow of an arid mountain. Link tapped Ganon on the shoulder and promptly signed: _what is this place?_

“Gerudo territory. It must be.” Ganon replied in quiet. “Who else would live this close to their lands?”

_My feet hurt._ Link hesitated. _Do you think we can afford to rest there?_

“Maybe if we had gone by horse. Then again, your feet wouldn’t be sore if that were the case.”

Link’s hands fell, and he reached up to rub at the nape of his neck. He didn’t want to regret stopping, but the bite in Ganon’s tone set his stomach astir. Even after risking both their lives, they had only pulled two people from the flame. Two people from an entire town— what good was that? Yet two lives were better than none. And at the end of the day, they were still two whole souls spared from destruction. People that would live to tell the tale, and perhaps find reinforcements to eliminate the rest of the threat. How could he possibly regret that…?

Yet Ganon’s hardened gaze made him question himself all over again the instant they made fleeting eye contact. _Should we warn them about the monsters?_

“Warn who?”

_Whoever lives down there. They aren’t all that far from the destruction…_ Link threw a cursory glance over his shoulder. Distant smoke over the horizon glanced back.

“They have eyes. They can see it, too.” Ganon murmured. “They’re fine. Either way…” Link blinked and recoiled a little, a green hand suddenly beside his face. He allowed Ganon to adjust his hair and pull his ears gently back to better hide them. “The fewer people we speak to, the better. When _they_ come looking… our appearances are more than a little memorable.”

_You’re right. Sorry._ It didn’t feel right, but nothing did anymore. His cheek returned to Ganon’s shoulder and lips parted to breathe a heavy hearted sigh.

Civilization was trouble. People were cruel. The thought of even passing by the growing outpost made him want to bury himself in the dirt and wither. Despite it all, the sun rose behind them, and the warm dance of dawn’s light fluttered down into the canyon, golds and reds and oranges against the delicate pale browns of the stony soil underfoot. It was enough to render even the evilest of places beautiful, let alone a quiet cluster of still stone houses cradled in front of mightier stone walls.

The early morn was upon them, but silhouettes brought life to the scene regardless— silhouettes that quickly turned to vague figures, which in turn graduated to a red-haired woman marching forward with a spear to meet them at the pass.

“Halt!” Her voice carried such authority that Link felt compelled to obey, though Ganon travelled a pace further before he stopped. She kept a short distance from them; just enough that she could prod them with the spear in her hand if she so chose to lower it from her side. Like Ganon and Veran, her nose domineered her face. Sharp and slightly upturned at the sight of them. Tanned armor covered the length of her shoulders and the width of her chest. Despite her exposed stomach and loose-fitting pants, he wouldn’t dare trifle with her and her proud, proud eyes. “You are on Gerudo land now. State your business.”

“We can’t simply pass through?” Ganon replied, tongue surprisingly tame in the face of interrogation.

“Listen,” she said, eyes narrowing, “You might be free to cross over into most territories, but we are _not_ Hyruleans, and this is _not_ Hyrule.” The Gerudo sounded almost rehearsed. Like this was a warning she had spoken before. “If you have any desire to tread upon our sacred desert, you _will_ abide by our laws or run back to the place whence you came. With that in mind, I ask again: _state your business._ ”

What were they supposed to say? That they were instructed to come here? Link’s lips quivered, and he blinked between the guard and Ganon, unable to muster any reasonable excuse. Fortunately, he didn’t need to. “We come seeking refuge.”

“From?” She didn’t miss a beat.

“Beasts ravaged our home. We barely escaped with our lives.” Ganon gestured to the faint plumes of smoke still spilling out into the sky. “We have nowhere else to go.”

“You have all of Hyrule.” Unfazed.

“No one came to help us.” Ganon continued, and Link inched behind him as though to shield himself from the growing mass of half-truths. “Hyrule has failed us.”

She observed them momentarily, then said, “And what makes you think you’ll find help with the Gerudo?”

“I have no trust for anyone else anymore.”

Finally, the Gerudo woman stopped to think. “There is little room in our hearts for freeloading men. You will be expected to put yourselves to good use, you realize?”

“Of course.” Ganon bowed his head. A strange gesture begrudgingly used to greet guests at the circus, yet he performed freely in front of the guard with no hesitation. “If you allow us entry… we would never dream of betraying that kindness.”

From bitter and snippy to charisma he had never truly seen before in Ganon. The switch unnerved Link, but he said nothing, and met the guard’s stare without buckling under the weight of her golden eyed gaze.

“…I’ll see what can be arranged,” she said at last, “But don’t think I’m fully moved by your words. Talk is cheap. Actions are not.” She turned her back to set off down the rest of the slope and into the outpost proper, adding before she went, “There is a building marked for travellers. You are permitted to take rest there until further notice.”

“Sarso.” Ganon said, though Link wondered if he had misheard.

The Gerudo guard threw her head back and laughed. Without looking back, she waved her free hand and called back: “It’s _sarqso,_ you foolish Hyrulean _._ ”

Link waited until she was out of earshot, then stepped in front of Ganon and signed with a frown. _What was that?_

“It’s a way of showing gratitude in the Gerudo tongue.” Ganon said, nonchalant. Link expected him to drop the eerily agreeable tone the instant she left, and yet it persisted. “Veran taught me that.”

_Okay. And what was… all of the rest?_

“Well, I wasn’t about to tell her the mad queen of Hyrule wants me dead.” There it was. The growl he was more familiar with, albeit hushed. Link relaxed a little. “All I did was show her her due respect as a Gerudo. And it seems to be getting us farther than anything else, is it not?”

_Respect? Since when do you care about that?_

“They are my _people_ , Link.” Ganon’s reply emerged firm. “As much of a blight as Veran can be… she didn’t betray us like everyone else. I… have faith in them.”

_I’ll try to have faith, too. It’s just hard._

“That’s putting it simply.” 

They started towards the outpost in pursuit of the opportunity to rest. He wondered if it was furnished— but even if it were an empty room with nothing but cold floorboards, he would gladly take that. His legs felt like lead, head like stone, and mouth like the dry desert on the other side of the canyon.

_How does it feel being the one called foolish?_ Link signed. The ghost of a tired smile graced his lips, and he nearly gave a giggle.

“Oh, shut up.”

_What was that word again?_

“Sar.. sarqso.”

“Sarqso?” Link tried, pronounciation slow and awkward.

Ganon laughed. “Exactly. Sarqso.”


	22. Chapter 22

On their second day at the Gerudo border, Link finally opened the pouch he had been given by Vaati. Not out of curiosity, but out of necessity. The generosity of the Gerudo only went so far— and if they wished to stay while the women debated their entry into the desert, they needed to pay. At first he had hoped there was something inside that he could sell or barter with instead, but the mage had foresight; the bag itself yielded more rupees than Link had ever touched in his entire life. It lit up the faces of the guards just as it brightened Link’s spirits, knowing that they weren’t about to be suddenly ejected from the cots they were calling their temporary home.

One dazzling show of silver and crimson stones, and the Gerudo guards changed their tunes from mild disgust to lukewarm hospitality. Rupees were a powerful tool, and for the first time in a long time, he could at least somewhat comprehend their importance to the Gorman Brothers. Those red stones were the price of entry just to see one of them, and to meet in person cost far more— and if money gave them that kind of power, no wonder they were addicted to it.

No longer were they accosted when they loitered outside the traveler’s lodge, and in exchange for one red one a day on top of the other fees the Gerudo had collected, they were permitted hardy helpings of food from the guards’ canteen. The pouch felt considerably lighter already, but Link wasn’t too concerned. After all, he had made it this far with nothing. Even with one rupee on hand, he felt exuberantly wealthy.

On the seventh day, they were at last permitted entry into Gerudo territory. He half expected the other side of the gates to open to vast and endless sands. It was only slightly disappointing when they were met with more scrubland. _I thought it would be warmer,_ Link signed, his steps into this new world slow and uncertain like a young fawn too skittish to stray away from home.

Only Hyrule was not his home. As nervous as he was to continue forth into the unknown, going back was not an option. There was nothing left for them in the land of lush, green human lands.

Ganon’s thoughts were far from the weather. “This is my home, Link.” He muttered to himself, awed eyes eager to drink in their— admittedly desolate— surroundings. Nothing but dry dirt and withered shrubbery— and a large expanse that only flattened out more as they travelled away from the Gerudo mountains. His hands hung limp at his sides, and his finger gave a twitch as though he wanted to touch the air ahead of him in an attempt to grapple with his realizations.

_Are you okay?_ Link skittered to stand in front of him, to force Ganon’s attention from the hot blue skies to his hands. A little bit of clarity snapped back into his golden gaze.

“I’m more than okay. I… I never imagined in my wildest dreams that I would get to stand here. The home of my people… _my home_ …” Ganon trailed off, eyes growing a little distant once more, “…and it’s beautiful.”

Link furrowed his brow and glanced behind him, even turning fully to see if he was missing something. Really, it wasn’t too different from the Hyrule side of the border. Not yet, at least. Shades of brown beneath an unyielding sun. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it wasn’t anything particularly special.

Either way, Link stared, and then the harsh, stressed frown of his lips gave way to a soft smile. If Ganon thought it was beautiful, then that was good enough for him. _Let’s go see more of it_ , Link signed. He fell back into place at Ganon’s side. With a soft exhale, he reached for Ganon’s sickly but broad hand and took it in his own. They weren’t in Hyrule anymore— and while the mad queen’s image danced in his head, a cruel waltz with a wicked sneer that seemed so out of place on her delicate face— he felt a sense of partial ease. The fear of persecution that had been nagging at his heels since their abrupt departure had subsided. At least for now.

Though his sense of ease was briefly shaken; a distance away, the air and dirt collapsed into an expanse of darkness. Ganon stopped, and Link with him. Hands jolted away from each other and towards their weapons, though he relaxed when he realized that this was familiar magic. Vaati’s mare emerged from the abyss, unscathed and unfazed. The gate closed at her heels, and she came to a halt to stare them down in wait.

For once in his life, he found himself grateful to be presented in front of a horse, terrifying magic and all. Link meandered forward as though in a trance— but his steps were purposeful and light, still wary of the creature but in want of her familiarity. He extended a hand, fingers half-curled in hesitation, then let it fall in rest on the mare’s muzzle. She stood still as stone, eyes fixed ahead with blank determination that still seemed almost human.

“So I really _did_ see it back there.” Ganon murmured, a few paces behind. “Who knows what else it’s capable of.”

_The horse saved your life,_ Link signed. He withdrew himself, putting distance between himself and Vaati’s mare. Despite her apparent intelligence, there was no telling what she would do at any given moment. Her monstrous hooves could easily come crashing down on his bare feet. Toes curled up in the dirt, unable to fathom such pain.

“It’s a patient one, then.” Ganon shook his head and gave a huff. “To see it again at all after abandoning it like idiots with no sense of self-preservation—” he gave Link a pointed, but gentle glower, “—is immensely fortunate.”

_Vaati said this is how he would find us, isn’t it?_ Their final night at the castle was an honest blur, but he could recall Vaati’s words with surprising clarity. If only he would meet up with them soon. But that was mere wishful thinking. Vaati was preoccupied as it was, presumedly throwing the Hyrulean bloodhounds off their trail. Link could only hope that the queen’s wrath hadn’t fallen on his shoulders.

“It most certainly is. Now get on it.” Ganon nudged him closer, this time toward the saddle-side. “Up. We’ve already wasted enough time on foot.”

Hands fidgeted with unspoken protest. He knew there was no real excuse for staying on the ground. With great hesitation and an unsteadiness only supposed by the stirrup and Ganon’s broad shoulder, he climbed on, wishing he possessed the skills to swing up effortlessly onto the saddle like all the others he had ridden with or alongside.

Vaati’s mare needed no prodding. Ganon sat, and she started off— not at a gallop or even a trot, but a casual walk. Link gripped Ganon’s waist in preparation for her to speed up, but it didn’t come, even when Ganon dug his boots into her side. All that won them was a low huff.

It occurred to Link that the tension in his shoulders born from the night they fled had been with him all this time, until that very moment. If Vaati’s mare refused to run… then maybe, just maybe, they were in the clear. With a deep inhale, Link burrowed his head against the curve of Ganon’s spine and closed his eyes. 

There was no telling the mare’s exact destination, but if they didn’t have to leave in a panic, that was good enough for him.

 

* * *

 

In the end, their destination was where the dry earth met the sands of the Gerudo desert. A city walled in red sandstone, massive and intimidating when the landscape yielded nothing else but flat, endless dunes. Mighty flags hung over the walls just as they did near the outpost, this time in a fabric of stark gold to stand out against the burgundy hues of their stone bricks. Here, they remained untouched by the wind— but proudly showed the Gerudo sigil unlike their counterparts, unfurled vertically as opposed to drooping over a wood pole. It was another reminder of the building heat, and the dryness in the back of his mouth.

The guards who flanked the entry gates stood motionless with their spears at their sides, mouths covered by veils but golden eyes exposed and ever so vigilant. Vaati’s mare came to a halt as they started forward to investigate the incoming travellers, and she offered another low huff to no one in particular.

“Rite of passage?” One asked, extending a hand upward towards them.

Link stared back at her, eyes blank with incomprehension. Ganon, however, slid a hand into a pocket and withdrew a small scroll of parchment, the likes of which Link had never seen before.

The Gerudo guard took it in hand and gave it a once-over. Either she knew what she was looking for, or simply didn’t care that much; after a fleeting instant, she offered it back up to Ganon. “Do not forget,” she said, “Your presence here is a privilege, _voe_. You will do well to make yourself useful. Both of you.” She took a step back. “Go.”

Vaati’s mare needed no other prompt. Link lurched forward some at the movement, eyes glued to the guards until he and Ganon had fully passed onto the other side and were out of their sight.

“Voe…?” Link murmured.

Ganon responded with a shrug. “We need to find a place to stay until Vaati comes for us.”

Fair enough. Link did not press the matter, and listened to the mare’s gait, displacing the sand underfoot with every step. It was the only soft noise he could parse. The rest was rough, harsh. Chatter in another tongue he did not understand, the clatter of goods in transit and hard, rushed footsteps.

He hoped that wherever they chose to spend the night would be quieter, but the strange, doorless abodes and growing proximity to the racket of city life swiftly killed his optimism.

 

* * *

 

It took them an hour to find a Gerudo willing to give them directions, and even then, her gaze lit up only when offered a memento from their stash of rupees. He wondered if these people could even understand them. Each time Ganon called out to them, they either passed without even acknowledging his gaze, or offered a brief glance before resuming their business.

Their hired guide spoke little, offering some confirmation to his theory. She relied mainly on gestures and showed them the way herself to a wide but squat building that looked in need of repairs. Cracks laced the stone, particularly at the foundation, and when they descended from the saddle, Link immediately noticed the build up of sand that spilled over from the steps outside to the inside floor.

With the dip of his head, he thanked their guide the only way he knew how: with a nervous _sarqso_ that felt stiff and awkward on his tongue. At least Ganon sounded confident in his gratitude. The Gerudo woman laughed at their attempt, a loud guffaw that brought a worried frown to Link’s lips. Yet she merely pantomimed a smile on her own face, then moved to pap him on the cheek with her hand before he had the chance to anticipate the touch.

Link jerked backwards, but the woman didn’t seem to notice. Already she had started off on her way, humming to herself as she went.

Ganon took hold of the mare’s reins to guide her toward the stable adjacent to the building, but with a sharp tug, she pulled away. _She’s got other plans,_ Link signed, internally curious as to what a horse that intelligent was capable of. Ganon held firm and stared her down, only to relent and release her with a weary sigh.

“Fine. Go then. See if I care.” He murmured, eyeing the horse for a reaction, met with a blank stare instead before she turned her flank to him and departed.

The interior of the building was slightly better kept than the exterior, sandy doorway aside. It was dark. Sunlight struggled to reach anywhere beyond the immediate vicinity of the windows. To compensate, a small oil lantern burned in one of the back corners, adjacent to an aged, long-haired Gerudo woman. She sat with her legs folded, one over the other, perusing a thin book in her hands.

“It’s been a while since I last saw a tourist,” she said without glancing up from her reading. “How long are you intending on staying?”

“…we aren’t tourists,” Link replied. He folded his hands behind his back, fingers fidgeting beneath the pressure of sudden conversation.

“We’ve come to take refuge here,” Ganon clarified at the woman’s unimpressed, quirked brow.

“Is that so.” The woman tossed her book onto a ledge cut into the wall— a little end table of sorts for her lounging chair. “I suppose business is business. Two rooms?”

Link shook his head. “Just one.”

She scoffed. When she stood, she unfurled to her full height. Now that he was off the horse and on equal footing, it was starting to strike him just how statuesque the Gerudo were. Far taller than the Hyruleans, most standing at Ganon’s height or taller. “My fees are fifty rupees per week,” she said, gesturing with an impatient wave for them to follow. From the lobby stood a lengthy corridor, rooms divided by curtains with a final curtain at the end. It smelled pleasant, and hardly a speck of sand littered the floor. Link kept close to Ganon and the Gerudo woman, half-convinced the curtains would suddenly jerk open to reveal a guard or beast. She led them to the curtain at the very back and unveiled a continuation of the corridor, albeit shorter. The rooms here had no doors, with no windows to pierce the gloom. “Take your pick. And allow me to lay the ground rules.”

Link poked his head into one of the chambers. A simple cot, shelf chiseled into the wall, and a bench. The Gerudo watched him with hawk-like gaze, and he could feel it on his neck even when he wasn’t looking. “No noise after sundown. I’ll not have you disturbing my guests. Furthermore, you’ll keep your noses out of their quarters. If I see either of you so much as taking a peek—” Link turned and flinched, her pointed finger in his face, “—you’ll be out on your asses before you have a chance to breathe another word. Payment is due upfront before sundown every…”

She continued, with no sign of letting up for a long, long while. In the end, though, did it really matter? No matter what laws of the land they had to follow— even if she happened to have some obscure and absurd rules— they had nowhere else to go. No matter what, for better or for worse, this desert was their home now. At least until further notice. But there was no telling when or where Vaati would arrive to meet them.

Admittedly, Link’s attention wandered. Gaze swept over the walls and ceiling, chipped with wear and age. At least the darkness came with a benefit: there was a certain cool to the room, and a relief from the dry heat beyond.

He snapped back into focus only as her speech drew to a close. With an air of finality, as though she was the judge who had finally condemned them to this fate of being uprooted and chased from one land to the next, she said: “—and welcome, I suppose, to the City of Outcasts.”

A name that fit with peculiar perfection.


	23. Chapter 23

Their hostess went by the name of Mivoora, and, as Link quickly learned, was not as intimidating as her first impression made her out to be. Golden eyes watched them, hawk-like, every time they crossed through the lobby. Her words were sharp, yes, and Link was also certain that some of the foreign words she murmured beneath her breath were swears aimed at them. But all that aside, she was the one who soon introduced them to the woman called Aru, and who arranged for them to work as her aides in exchange for mediocre pay. It was in her best interests to help them find a source of income. Regardless of her motivations, though, it was still a great help in a city where most of their inquiries fell on deaf ears.

The day they met Aru was a cooler one. A few clouds graced the skies, distant and thin, barely enough to offer the slightest bit of shade when they happened to pass over the sun. Yet the City of Outcasts stopped for no man or degree of heat. Streets bustled, and loud voices tore through Link’s eardrums as they did on any other day. Ganon’s arm was his constant lifeline, a guide through the sea of Gerudo women. The cautious part of him wanted to take the chance to scan his surroundings and commit the marketplace to memory. Ironically, the whirlwind of people and amalgam of stalls, goods, and buildings made it hard to digest anything, let alone a comprehensible thought of how this strange new world functioned.

It was Aru who intercepted them, and led Ganon beneath an awning in the midst of the chaos. The fact didn’t quite sink in until Ganon himself leaned in to inform him. Then, with a dazed blink, Link turned to offer her a stiff bow of his head. She was short, at least by Gerudo standards, standing no taller than Link. Being able to look someone in the eye without having to glance upward was a small blessing. Height aside, she was distinctively different from most of the other women he had seen thus far. Her head was clean-shaven, and her face framed not by hair, but by a treasure trove of gold jewelry that tinkled with the slightest movement. Her ears, crowded by a dozen pairs of studs and hoops. Her neck, adorned with necklaces that looked uncomfortably heavy. Most stunning of all, though, was the circlet upon her brow. Above the bridge of her nose, set in the middle of the crown, was a massive crimson jewel. A stumpy but nonetheless glorious horn that stole the show from all the other trinkets on her body.

“Mivoora really delivered,” Aru said, transfixed by Ganon. She paid Link no mind, ignoring his attempt at a polite nod entirely. “A Hyrulean with green skin. Simply unheard of.” She fell silent and tapped at the tip of her nose in thought, now busy with her impromptu examination.

“Are we here to work, or for you to ogle?” Ganon asked. He paused, then added, “And what does that have to do with anything?”

“Rumour spreads fast among the Gerudo,” Aru replied, unbothered by his accusatory tone. “I have work that needs doing, yes, but I simply had to see the misfit refugees with my own eyes. I like to be one step ahead of the rest.”

“Rumour?” Link murmured. The space beneath the awning was free of bodies aside from their own, and he at last felt as though he could breathe and think now that he was certain no one would intrude on his space.

“You can’t expect a _vai_ like Mivoora to keep her mouth shut about what she had for dinner, let alone housing a pair of strange foreigners.” Aru jerked her gaze from Ganon to Link, and quite visibly stared at his hair rather than his face. Cheeks flushed, and a hesitant hand rose to make sure his ears were properly covered. It was the first time since their arrival that he felt a need to conceal them perfectly. He’d grown complacent with the disinterested looks of most Gerudo in the streets. Either way, he supposed there was no hiding Ganon. One way or another, they were a pair of sore thumbs wherever they tread.

“Show us what needs doing.” Ganon said. Aru’s golden head rattled as she snapped back to her oh-so-interesting target.

“You’re awfully excited for tedious tasks.” Her voice came out a little distant, and Link wondered what was going through her head. He certainly knew what was going through Ganon’s, and it wasn’t anything nice. “Very well. I require an extra set of hands, and an extra pair of eyes. One to remain here and ensure none of my belongings,” a gesture to a stack of crates and a few baskets near the back of the stall, “go mysteriously missing. And another to help me move a few things from one place to another… _deliveries_ is the word in your language, if I’m not mistaken.”

One to remain, one to leave. Link cast a skittering glance at Ganon’s profile, silently hoping he wouldn’t agree to that. Unfortunate for him that Ganon’s response was a curt nod instead. “I’ll go. Link, you stay. You can handle that, can’t you?” He placed a hand on Link’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. That was all it took to win a nod back. A temporary absence couldn’t be all that bad. Maybe, he reckoned as he watched them depart, it would be a good opportunity to accustom himself to being alone. If only for a little bit. He had no real desire for a prolonged solitude, after all.

He retreated to the back of the stall and pushed himself up to sit on top of a crate. The opportune place, he learned, to examine the area as he initially wanted. There were interesting patterns to observe; the first being that the stalls in this section of the marketplace stood quiet in comparison to ones across the way. Which made sense in that as far as he could tell, the stalls closest to him sold niche goods, like books and trinkets, while the bustling ones hawked fruits and vegetables that seemed abundant for a city on the cusp of a desert. Nostrils caught warm scents every so often. Cooked foods of some kind of another that made him wish for a downward wind… though he longed for that regardless, along with a canteen to quench his parched throat.

No one bothered with his dark, packed up stall. All the better for Link, who preferred his self-made game of people watching to the task of guarding these sturdy boxes. It was a sea of crimson locks, some swept up in ponytails, others braided in an elaborate way that reminded him of Veran, albeit far more modest. Few women kept their hair long and down. In fact, it was far more common to see shaved heads entirely. Only on the men, though, with Aru being the sole exception he’d seen thus far. 

The similarities between these bald men were, on second glance, a little uncanny. Most going bare-backed, sporting only breeches or loincloths (he envied their confidence; the lack of clothes had to feel nice in this arid desert citadel), and most curiously of all, every single one carried a ring through their septum, presumedly made of silver, impossible to miss. Link realized, quite decidedly, that he found the style pleasing to behold. His hand brushed up against the bottom of his nose, and he pinched his septum, wondering how he would look with a nose ring. The liberty to decide whether or not he wanted a piercing was a refreshing conclusion to come to, and in a sudden act of impulse, his hand moved from nose to pierced ear. He pried off the earring thrust upon him by the Gorman Brothers and cast it aside into the sand without giving it a second glance.

A self-satisfied smile dawned on Link’s face. It was a short-lived pleasure, however. Just as he settled back into place upon his crate perch, eyes latched onto a man with a hefty crate balanced upon his shoulder. He looked like the sort that wouldn’t be out of place in Castle Town, if it weren’t for the sunburned nose and lack of clothes. He was naught but another face in the crowd, until his step didn’t quite clear the road, and he tripped on his own sandal. The crate lurched with him, and the contents spilled out into the square.

Link was up and at the man’s side before he even had a chance to recover his wits. He extended a hand, but the man paid it no mind and began a scrabble to retrieve his goods— various metal tools that Link did not know the function of— to slide them back into the crate. The rejected offer didn’t deter him. Instead, he turned his attention to the tools as well, and gathered them up to hand off to the man. While he didn’t expect gratitude, he certainly didn’t expect the man to snatch them away without a word, avoiding his gaze with an almost hostile snarl.

No one else moved to help him, and he snapped the lid of the crate back on before Link could reach for it. He felt the gazes on his neck then, and when he looked up, it occurred to him that many of the Gerudo women in the immediate area were staring, wordless and stony, many frozen in place like statues trapped in a perpetual state of mild disgust. A cloud of shame descended upon him, harsh and intense, and he rose back up from his haunches to retreat back into the shade of the stall while the other man hurried away through the crowd and out of Link’s sight.

The women’s gazes hovered a little longer. Slowly, too slowly for Link’s liking, they turned back to their business one-by-one, and the lull in the air was soon filled once more with the bustle of marketplace activity. Still, suddenly transfixed by the sand beneath his feet, he knew that he was no longer just a shadow in the corner. He dared not lift his head, but he had no doubt that the Gerudo women stole pointed looks, some quick, some prolonged, as they carried with whatever they had been previously preoccupied with.

His mind froze. If he had been capable of functional thought, he would have prayed repeatedly to the green goddess for Ganon and Aru’s immediate return. But he was a deer caught in a hunter’s snare; a snare of entangling golden eyes and harsh mutters that they probably thought he couldn’t hear. Maybe those mutters weren’t directed at him, but he had no way of telling, and the ruminations that slipped between the cracks in the ice insisted they were.

Whether a second or an hour passed before he heard Ganon’s voice beside him, Link had no way of telling. The sun stood high in the sky, just as it had last time he checked, but he made no movement since the man with the crate, determined to make himself as small and invisible as possible. “Link,” Ganon said, and at once Link drew closer to the one Gerudo he knew he could trust. “Are you alright?”

He nodded. Too quick for Ganon to take it as an earnest response, and too unconvincing to quell the downward quirk of Aru’s lips. But neither argued. “Very well. I need your hands too, Hyrulean. Take what you can carry. I have many stops I need made before nightfall.”

Eager to leave the market behind, Link obeyed with fervour. He took all that he could carry (admittedly not much, in comparison to Ganon and Aru) then followed behind the two of them, soothed by the quieting commercial buzz as it bled away into the soft tinkle of Aru’s jewelry.

 

* * *

“I think that woman— Aru—” Ganon said, voice low, “Knows what I am.”

The sudden change in subject brought a furrow to Link’s brow, and lifting his head from the crook of Ganon’s arm, sought to examine his face in the darkness of their quarters. It was difficult to tell, but for some reason, Ganon didn’t look particularly pleased. The lines of his jaw were drawn taut, and he didn’t return Link’s curious glance.

The bite of the desert night drew him back beneath the covers and as close to Ganon’s warmth as he could manage. “Why do you think that?” Link replied. Without even the moonlight to illuminate his hands, it was easier just to speak in tongue.

“She kept telling me how I reminded her of someone she knows. Saying that she’s only ever seen Gerudo with skin like mine. That my face didn’t look Hyrulean. I don’t know if she was trying to be subtle instead of asking outright, but she didn’t succeed if she was.”

“Are you worried?”

“No. Why should I be?”

“They never seemed to like you. Back then.” It struck him now that the women of the Gerudo desert, for the most part, paid him little mind. Whereas the women who came as far as Labrynna to see the Gorman Brothers and their male Gerudo could never hide their distaste. Maybe they thought it was a disrespectful farce, but he couldn’t help but think about what Veran had told them: that these women didn’t take kindly to men of their own race. Maybe it was that leftover prickle of paranoia that told him how one misstep would lead them directly to the mad queen and her nonsensical desire for bloodshed. He couldn’t tell.

“Hardly anyone has paid us much mind, Link. She’s the only one who won’t keep her nose where it belongs.” The roll of Ganon’s eyes was audible through his tone. “Besides. If worse comes to worst… we move on. It’s as simple as that, isn’t it?”

But when would they stop needing to move on? When would they be permitted the simple luxury of having a place to call their own? No one else in the world seemed to have that trouble— the curse of fleeing from one place to the next. Of course, when that thought came to mind, he quickly shook it from his head. It would be vain to think that they were the only troubled duo in the land. Kenta and Othili had nothing but the clothes on their backs. It occurred to him for the first time as well that they had mentioned the towns— and how they were no longer safe, either.

With that in mind, he closed his eyes. At temporary peace with their uncertain situation, although those distant worries hovered near the back of his mind, vulturous images ready to descend the second he lowered his guard.

“It’s as simple as that,” he echoed, and fell into fitful sleep.

 

* * *

 

Link didn’t anticipate to pull back the curtain that separated room from lobby to find Aru seated by the door with one leg folded over the other, her frown thinly disguised with an effort to maintain neutral-faced that collapsed the instant they made eye contact. “Sav’otta.” She said, out of what seemed like pure obligation. Her gaze slid toward Ganon the second he appeared at Link’s back.

“Good morning, she said,” Mivoora added in flat tone from her little corner, gazing up from her reading.

Ganon huffed. “Good morning. Sav’otta. I thought we were meeting elsewhere.”

“We were,” Aru said. Her word hung in the air between them in a way that implied further elaboration was to come, but she left it there, uncomfortable and tense, in favour of staring them down.

“Then why has that changed?” Ganon’s usual patience with his kin slipped away in face of her determined desire to haunt them with unexpected early morning tension. Link took a step back to stand beside Ganon, rather than slightly in front of him.

“You.” Aru said. Eyes returned to Link, and he held her look before offering an uncertain gesture at himself. “Yes, you. Remind me of your name.”

There was a spark in her expression that made his heart skip a beat. “Link,” he said, compelled to answer.

“Has no one taught you manners, Link?”

“What is all this about?” Ganon interjected. 

Aru pinched the bridge of her nose with a hand heavily armoured with a dozen bracelets. She murmured a few words that took him a moment to identify as the Gerudo tongue, then lowered her hand back into her lap. Slow and purposeful. Like a woman named Miyu attempting to rein in her anger until her company dispersed. His breath caught in his throat. “I said rumour travels fast among the Gerudo, did I not? It doesn’t take long to catch on when… the word, what is the word…” She closed her eyes, dipped her head in thought, then snapped back up. “‘ _Filth glares’_ are being thrown your way. They say I have been associating with a man who extended a hand in mercy to a _voesaaborr._ Take a guess at who that man may be.”

“I don’t know what that is,” Link said, voice stripped with a raw, unfounded sense of guilt. Voesaaborr? Vaguely, vaguely, through the haze of rising panic, he recalled the word from a few unintelligible conversations around him while he waited for Ganon and Aru’s return. “…who that is?” He corrected himself, and waited to see if she would approve or deny the correction.

“Then allow me to enlighten you, Link, if you wish to maintain your dignity in this city. I ask you: have you criminals in your land of Hyrule?” Without hesitation, he nodded. There was no place free of cruelty. There would never _be_ such a place. Aru continued: “I know little of how you Hyruleans work your justice. But here, in our lands, the price for betraying our hospitality is steep. It is the law of the desert. Once a man is allowed into our home, he is to show his respect for our country and work hard. He is to be honest and courteous. And if he is not— if he dares blaspheme these sacred sands by breaching our laws— then he is punished. And he is _not_ shown mercy. If his crime is repulsive enough, he is not granted the blessing of an execution. He is _voesaaborr._ ”

“‘Forbidden man’.” Mivoora echoed, book placed aside, cheek propped up against a knuckle supported in turn by the back of her chair.

“Do you understand, Link?” Aru asked. “You do not speak to a _voesaaborr_. You do not touch a _voesaaborr_. And most importantly of all, you do not treat a _voesaaborr_ amicably. Your actions reflect poorly upon both myself, and your host. I will not be seen as a _voesaaborr_ sympathizer because of a hired hand. I refuse it.”

“I didn’t know,” Link repeated, hands clasped together behind his back, nails digging into the flesh of his palm.

“How was he supposed to know?” Ganon said, slight snap to his question.

Again she pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. It irked him how the sigh seemed like a way of saying ‘isn’t it obvious’? Until he realized that, for some reason or another, it was a sigh that ushered in a hint of sympathy to her irate lips. “Foreigners. Blazing blindly into affairs they do not understand. This is not the first time. It will not be the last.” The last part seemed an affirmation aimed more at herself than the two of them.

“ _How was he supposed to know_?”

“Listen well, Link.” Aru said. She rose to her feet, jingled her way over to the two of them, then tapped at her nose hoop. “ _Voesaaborr_ must carry admissions of their guilt. I will not warn you again. Do not associate with men who carry their guilt beneath their nostrils.”

“The nose rings?” Ganon asked, and Link was more than glad for the clarification.

“Yes.”

“You have a ring of your own. Are we not supposed to talk to you?”

“Clever observation,” she said, though her voice said otherwise, “Rings of steel, Ganondorf. _Men_ who carry rings of steel. Is that too difficult to remember?”

“No,” Link said, “I’ll remember. Sorry.”

“Good. You will do well to remember it.” Aru spoke, then fell silent. She didn’t move away from the two of them, however, but continued to stand in front of them with eyes that couldn’t seem to decide whether they wanted to watch Link or Ganon. Mivoora, he noted from a glance over Aru’s shoulder, had returned to her book.

“I apologize,” she said at last, “But you must understand my urgency. My business here is too important for a loss of reputation. That, and I cannot allow any shame that falls on my shoulders to reflect back on my mentors. I took a risk, taking two… _Hyrulean_ men into my employ. Prove to me— and them— that I am making the right decision.”

From the corner of his eye, Link saw that Ganon was ready to talk back. A word had barely left his mouth when Aru turned and started towards the door. Voice tapered off into a growl, a faint ‘tch’.

“Ganondorf… I have work for you today. As for you, Link… I will have you remain here for a day or two. I must control the damage that has been done, and it will do none of us any good to bring your face back to the market when the wound is still so fresh.”

Of course he was about to deny her. It was plain by his face, an open book lettered with a thousand grudges on Link’s behalf. Link placed a hand on Ganon’s arm and gestured with the tilt of his head for him to go despite his reservations. They needed this place, and they needed the connections.

That, and admittedly, he wanted to know if she would say anything else to Ganon. Perhaps then he could get a better sense of who this woman was, and why she seemed so blatantly privy to Ganon’s true nature as for him to take immediate notice.

“Are you sure?” Ganon murmured under his breath. Link nodded. He reached to give Ganon’s palm a squeeze, then watched him off until both he and Aru disappeared into the red of desert dawn. Outside, a goat bleated and a sudden weak gust of wind brought a dusting of sand into the building. Life marched on as it always did, and Link returned to the cool of the back rooms to reflect on Aru, _voesaaborr_ , and the complexities of a land in which he did not belong.


End file.
